Twentyfour
by AngelofDarkness1605
Summary: Ten years after the last night in the bakehouse, Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd meet again. The day that follows will shape the rest of their lives.
1. Chapter 1

_I'm sorry that it took me quite a while to start posting a new story after I had completed the previous one. The thing is that 2011 didn't exactly began in a good way for me - but things are getting back to normal now and so am I. _

_This also is a different story than the one I mentioned on the last day of last year. This was supposed to be my Christmas one shot for 2010, but as you can see, it turned out quite differently. When this fic is completed, I'll get back to the stories I referred to earlier. _

_This fic is told entirely from Mrs. Lovett's point of view. Mr. Todd's side of the story will be explained, but not in the first chapters._

* * *

**Twenty-four**

Chapter 1

She had intended to make sure that he wouldn't be able to get away from her – after all, the boy caused enough trouble even if he was within reach. She had also promised herself not to react when she would return to _that _place.

But when she walked down Fleet Street for the first time in a decade and her eyes fell on the house where she had lived for the greater part of her life, she found herself standing rooted to the ground, not aware of the oblivious boy who pulled his hand out of her own.

Mrs. Lovett breathed in as deeply as she could, but the frosty air didn't calm her. Large flakes of snow fell down on her, obscuring her view, but she wasn't aware of it. She did know that it was completely irrational to react like this – dangerous, even – but she couldn't help it.

Her former shop and home hadn't changed much on the outside. This was the first thing that had completely surprised her. She had expected that the building would be destroyed by the doubtlessly horrified and shocked habitants of Fleet Street as soon as they had found out what exactly had been going on inside number 186 for months. She had been sure that the place would either be completely demolished or re-build.

Most of the front of the house however looked as if nothing had happened at all. There was some damage of the once brightly painted woodwork and from her position in front of the shop she could see that the furniture inside of it was gone, but except for that it was impossible to tell that so much had happened there, that so much time had passed.

With a jolt of shock she realized that even her name was still visible above the windows of the former pie shop, a reminder of a past so dark that she usually tried not to think of it. But now that she was looking at the building that hardly betrayed anything of the horrors that she – and so many others – had gone through inside its walls, she couldn't pretend any longer that no one of it had ever happened.

"Look Mum, I'm building a snowman!"

For a moment, her attention was drawn to the auburn haired boy who was busy with handfuls of snow on the other side of the street. To her discomfort, he was standing right in front of the entrance to her former pie shop. She intuitively wanted him to get away from there, but she forced herself not to intervene.

"That's lovely, dear," she replied, hardly looking at what he was actually doing. It was unlike her to ignore the boy who meant everything to her, but now that she was catapulted back into the past, she found herself for a moment incapable of caring about the trivialities of the present.

As she looked at the boy, she was reminded of the fact that she was standing still in the middle of the street, right in front of the former home of the demon baker and barber of Fleet Street.

Even though she had fled far, far away as soon as she could in order to safe her life – as far as it was still worth the trouble, after all what had happened – the rumors and stories about the crimes that she and Mr. Todd had had committed had even reached her.

But right now she couldn't bring herself to move to a place where she wouldn't capture as much attention. Her well known auburn curls were hidden beneath a shawl; the fabric protected her against the cold, but the fact that it made it difficult for others to recognize her was much more important.

"It'll be the biggest snowman _ever_!"

"Yes Teddy, I'm sure it will be," she muttered.

It didn't matter that he couldn't her. It didn't matter that she didn't mean it. The boy's ability to focus on something was even more fleeting than hers had been when she was his age; it was a trait running in the family.

But she supported him anyway, encouraging him and helping him as much as she could, even as she began finding it difficult to keep up with the energetic child now that she was growing older herself.

She wanted to give him a childhood free of worries and discomfort, for as far as he hadn't suffered both of them in great quantity already. _He _couldn't help it that life was the way it was and although she knew that it was impossible, she wanted to shield him from the harsh sides of human existence for as long and as much as she could. Not because she owed him, but because she loved with with all that was left of her heart.

Even though the baker was drawn to the building of which its other inhabitants had shaped her life, her eyes lingered on the boy for a moment longer. He was rolling a snowball over the ground, making it bigger and bigger that way. Doubtlessly it would form the lower half of the snowman he was building at that moment. While doing so, he was completely oblivious to the people walking around him and the frosty air that even Mrs. Lovett herself was beginning to feel.

For a moment she wished that she was young again as well, that the past forty years could be undone somehow. That she was just a little girl again, moving to London when the farm on the countryside where she and her family used to live provided not enough food to feed a couple, let alone a couple with four growing children.

She had been afraid, unwilling to leave her childhood home, horrified by the city that was completely unlike anything she had ever known. But she hadn't been responsible for anyone and didn't have to do anything except for simply going with them and doing as she was told.

Within a decade however she had been the only one remaining. Her parents and brothers had died; the family had found out the hard way that diseases spread even quicker in the city than they did on the countryside. Her sister survived, but married a merchant from Newcastle as soon as the young Nellie herself was engaged to Albert Lovett, the man whose money had to keep her comfortable – and most of all, alive.

It hadn't, not really, but Mrs. Lovett hadn't wanted it to be any other way. The reason for this was simple: Benjamin Barker.

She didn't want to look at his part of the building, but her eyes were drawn to the former tonsorial parlor anyway. Her heart ached when she remembered the way he had changed once he had come back to London, back into her life. The events that had taken place more than a decade ago were fresh in her memory as if they had only happened a few weeks before now.

The memory that was most clear was the one that was formed by the last night they had spent together – the night that everything had fallen apart. It was no wonder that she recalled the night so clearly; for the past ten years, there hadn't gone a week gone by that she hadn't had a nightmare about it at least once.

In her heart she had always known that Sweeney would find out sooner or later that she hadn't told him the truth about his wife's fate. Of course, she had hoped that he wouldn't, but in her life things never were so simply. But never she would've been able to predict that the effects of the information that she had withheld from him would be so disastrous.

It was a miracle that she had survived at all, she supposed. He had meant to kill her. No matter how much she had wanted it to be otherwise – no matter how much she had tried to fool herself – he _had_ wanted to murder her, as if she was just another one of his anonymous victims. She had seen it in his eyes, even if he pulled her into a waltz, heading for the open oven, pretending to be giving in to her desire for him after all.

She still didn't really know how she had managed to escape; even in her nightmares, the final seconds that she had been with him were blurred and vague. He had intended to burn her in her own oven, at least she was sure of that, no matter how much the mere thought still hurt her.

He was so much stronger than she was - he easily could've thrown her in the fire. She had seen nothing but blankness when she had stared into his black eyes for the very last time, as if pleading him that way one last time to make her dreams come true instead of murdering her in such a cruel way, making her death a lot more painful than the ones he had allowed the men who he hated so much to have.

The thought that he hated her at that moment even more than the Judge and the Beadle hurt her in a way more than the fire would've done if he had actually managed to throw her into it. But there was something – doubt, pity, disappointment... she still didn't know – that made him hesitate for the shortest of moments. That second was all that she had needed to break out of his suddenly limp arms and run, run, run. The image of his eyes, burning with hate and fury, had followed her with every step she took. It still did.

She hadn't stopped running until she was far away from Fleet Street, in an area of London where she had never been before. A carriage driver took her as far away from the City as the money she happened to have with her – which wasn't much – could bring her.

The baker, who had become a rather rich woman in just a matter of weeks, especially when considering the fact that she had been starving not long before, was left with nothing but the clothes on her body and the terrifying memories in her mind. She hadn't looked back, had left her old life completely behind.

Her body had fled to the other side of the country, but her heart had always remained in London and it was a rare occasion when she didn't think of Mr. Todd for longer than a few hours. Even though he was gone and she would never see him again, he still dominated her life, almost just as much as he had done when they had still lived together in Fleet Street.

She wasn't even aware anymore of the fact that she was standing still in the middle of Fleet Street and that she was trembling with hunger even now, her eyes glued to the entrance to the former barber shop.

Even though he hadn't set foot in the house for as long as she had, the building looked as if Mr. Todd could walk out of his tonsorial parlor any moment, with the scowl on his face that she hated so much, muttering about his lost family and vengeance, being completely oblivious to the woman who had longed for him – loved him - for the greater part of her life.

They had never found him. She had made sure to keep herself as informed as possible without raising suspicion. The details surrounding the murders in Fleet Street grew more and more gruesome as the days passed and the people gossiped, but one thing never changed: the barker nor the barber were ever found. Sweeney must've successfully escaped as well, but after all those years Nellie still didn't know whether this was a good thing or not.

Mrs. Lovett had had a decade to think about it, but she still didn't know what she felt for the barber after all what had happened. She should hate him after what he had done to her – and she did. Or at least, she wished that she _could_. But even though he had tried to kill her after everything that she had done for him, she couldn't help but feel... something when she remembered him. Something that wasn't fear or hate. Something that made awfully clear to her that at least a part of her still loved him.

"Mum!"

From the way he was yelling at her, the baker concluded that she hadn't been aware of Teddy even though he was talking to her.

"You can't stand still in the middle of the street like that," he said matter-of-factly when he had her attention at last. "You're standing in people's way."

She allowed the boy to drag her to the relative quietness of the side of the road. Even though he took her closer to her former home than she had been before, she didn't have the strength to resist him, eyes still focused on the door where Mr. Todd used to go through countless times a day.

"Why are we here anyway?"

He looked up at her expectantly, eyes just as brown and expressive as her own. She managed to tear her gaze away from the building as she tried to answer him. Doing so however was difficult, even when she could manage to meet the boy's gaze. Even she herself didn't know why she had come here, why this was the first place that she had visited now that she had returned to London.

"I... I used to live her."

The truth was something she preferred to tell Teddy as often as possible. It was easier, for both of them, but that didn't make it pleasant to do so sometimes. She inwardly cringed because of the torrent of questions that was doubtlessly going to follow her statement.

"Really?"

His eyes were wide with surprise as they looked around with much more interest than before.

"Yes," she mumbled, "I've lived here for a long time."

"It's so dark and crowded - and it stinks," he announced, a revolted look on his pale face. "I don't like it here."

The simple statement hit her like a physical blow. The boy was so pure, so honest... and she took him to a place that was the complete opposite of it.

"I know," she replied weakly. "I don't like it very much here myself. But we... we might have to live somewhere around here for a while."

Teddy's face fell, causing the baker to feel even guiltier.

"But... aren't we going _home_?"

"Not for a while," she said slowly.

Mrs. Lovett breathed in deeply, wondering how she was going to tell him that she couldn't any longer afford to pay the rent for their small room in Newcastle – and not of any room in the relatively pleasant city. She had tried to explain it to him earlier – or at least, had intended to do so – but she had found herself incapable of telling him the harsh truth. Now she had no choice any longer though.

For a moment, she wished that she hadn't been so weak – the shock would only be greater now that they had left their home already. Once again she wished that she would've been able to persuade the landlord to let them stay just a few more days, so Teddy and she could spend one more week in relative comfort.

But the elderly man had been merciless, giving her only one particular other option to stay for a bit longer. There had been days that she would've accepted to sleep with men in order to ensure her survival, but the thought of the innocent boy waiting for her – and one day finding out about it – made it impossible for her to do so.

"Teddy..." the usually so cheerful boy looked up with dread clearly visible in his eyes. The baker kneeled down so her face was at the same level as his. "When your father died, he left us some money. I earned money as well in the bakery where I worked. But the shop closed a few weeks ago and there was no other place for me to work. We could live from the money that your father left us – until now. I have to find work. This is the only place where I might find it."

She had expected the boy to be shocked, to be angry with her. What she hadn't thought was that he would take it as well as he did, nodding as understandingly as a six year old could.

"It'll be alright Mum," he said with a voice that was stronger and more reassuring than it had ever been before. "I'll take care of you."

Her breath hitched in her throat as she heard what he said. It was typically a thing only a naive child would say in such a situation. He wouldn't be naive much longer if she kept behaving towards him like this – if she didn't succeed in creating a secure life for him.

The look in his eyes was more serious that ever been and she inwardly shivered, her conscience screaming at her for what she was doing to the boy. She was supposed to _raise _him, not drag him down with her.

"Yes," she said, caressing his cheek in what she hoped was a comforting way, "we will be alright. It won't be easy, but we'll find a way."

"Mum..."

"What is it, Teddy?" she asked, hoping that it wasn't about something that she couldn't deal with at that very moment. She felt tested enough for one day already.

"You're _crying_."

"No, I'm not," she answered quickly, only then realizing that there were indeed several tears running down her cold cheeks.

"Yes, _you are_," Teddy said, even as she was inwardly begging him just to drop the subject, because she was indeed feeling rather desperate and she _really _didn't want to break down just now.

Teddy sounded surprised, as if he had thought that she was somehow stronger than to give in to her emotions like that. Which was worse, he shouldn't know that their situation was so bad in the first place.

"Nonsense," she replied, furiously wiping the tears away. "It's the cold wind, that's all, and..."

Her voice faltered. As the difficulty of their situation dawned on her fully, she found it impossible to continue speaking.

It was in the middle of another merciless English winter and she was once again almost alone in the endlessly depressing city. She was responsible for a child that she couldn't afford to look after, she had nowhere to go and didn't even know how she could buy a next meal for Teddy, let alone for herself.

Instead of finding a proper house for them like she should, she could only hope that they could find refugee in a church or something like that during the coming night. But if the citizens of London were still as charitable as they had been ten years ago, the chance was small indeed. Having saved her very last pennies to buy Teddy breakfast, she couldn't even remember when she had properly eaten herself for the last time.

As if it wasn't bad enough yet, returning to Fleet Street had made undeniable clear to her that the memory of Sweeney Todd still haunted her, and that it would probably do so for the rest of her life. In spite of everything, she still couldn't help but long for him – for the man he had been, for the man he _could_ have been if only he had let her. Even now that the lives of Teddy and herself were on the line, she couldn't help but think of the man who she kept loving even though he had ruined her life in almost every way possible.

"Don't cry, Mum."

Teddy's arms were suddenly around her as he comforted in a way she was supposed to support _him_. She didn't want him to see her like this and she forced herself to compose herself, but she couldn't help but bury her face in the crook of his little neck. The fabric of his coat was soft against her skin; it was the last thing she had bought in Newcastle, leaving her only just enough money to pay for the train to London. Teddy would outgrew the coat within months – but really, what else could she have done?

Nellie was unaware of the people walking around her, pretending not to notice the strange boy and woman kneeling down on the snow covered street. They were her former neighbors and acquaintances, most of them knowing at least one of the victims who they might have eaten themselves... but they didn't recognize her now that her hair was covered and her face was pressed against the boy's shoulder.

"Oi!" The baker let go off Teddy as he suddenly turned partly around. "She's touching my snowman!"

The boy freed himself from her embrace, heading for the girl who was standing in front of the pile of snow that he had played with earlier.

"I'll be right back Mum!"

She smiled, even as a few tears that she hadn't managed to hold back rolled down her face. She missed Teddy's warmth, the reassurance that she at least still had _him, _but it was a relief to see him like his usual, playful self even now. The seriousness that he had just proved to possess as well terrified her.

The baker watched how Teddy ran towards a blond haired girl who was reaching for the snowman once again at that very moment. The girl took something that looked quite a lot like a carrot from a man who was standing next to her.

Just when she wanted to push the item in the powdery substance where the snowman's nose ought to be, Teddy reached her.

"You can't do that," he said, pulling the girl's arm that was holding the carrot away. "That's _my _snowman!"

"But I'm only..." the girl's voice was soft but clear as she defended herself.

She didn't have the chance to do so however. As soon as Teddy grasped her arm, the hand of the man that was standing next to the girl landed on the boy's shoulder in quite a rough way.

Seeing the stranger's hand on the boy's shoulder, motherly instincts kicked in. Without thinking, Mrs. Lovett approached the man, hardly aware of the fact that she couldn't even see his face because of the way it was hidden in his black coat.

"Don't touch my boy," she hissed, fingers wrapping around the man's wrist and pulling it away from Teddy.

"As long as your _boy _stays away from my girl," the stranger growled.

There was something about his voice that was very familiar, but she had not the chance to consider it. One moment, she was holding the man's wrist, and then she was slammed against the former pie shop, trapped between the wall and the dark man, his hands right below her elbows as he pinned her arms against the cold stones behind her.

Horror welled up within her as she realized what was happening. Even moments ago she had thought that the lack of money was her largest problem, but it seemed trivial compared to the situation she was currently found herself in now. Within mere seconds, Teddy might not be simply short of money.

But after a few seconds the stranger's grasp relaxed somewhat. Mrs. Lovett thought she heard him gasping. The shawl was yanked roughly from her head, but the hand that had released her temporarily to do so pinned her against the wall behind her more powerfully than before when her characteristic auburn curls were revealed.

"_It can't be."_

The unknown man's shocked declaration caused her to panic. He had recognized her and even though she still didn't know who he was, it was obvious that he must've lived around Fleet Street ten years ago. He doubtlessly knew the rumors about her even better than she did herself – if he hadn't experienced Mr. Todd's and her crimes at first hand in one way or the other.

Being killed by this stranger suddenly didn't seem any longer to be the worst possible outcome. He knew her, obviously, and now that he had recognized her, there was nothing that prevented him from drawing more attention to her. People were gathering around them already, wanting to see what was going on between the man and the woman.

The inhabitants of Fleet Street remained on a safe distance for the time being, didn't seem to have recognized her just yet, but Mrs. Lovett knew that it was only a matter of time before this would change.

She wished now that she hadn't come to Fleet Street at all, that she had listened to her mind that had told her all along that it was madness to return here out of sheer nostalgia, out of a nonexistent hope that her life in London would enfold in a better way than the previous time, simply because she began at the point where her earlier life in the City had ended so drastically ten years ago. But it was too late. The man held her captured in a way that made it impossible for her to escape.

There was a blur of movement just behind his shoulder. Before she had noticed it herself, the man had realized it already, even though his back was facing the boy that approached him. A second later, Teddy was flung through the air, landing on the pavement a few meters away. She vaguely realized that it was a good thing that there was so much snow, otherwise the boy would've been seriously hurt.

Thinking however wasn't something she could really do now that the man had threatened her boy in such a way. She struggled against him, but she didn't stand a chance. He hadn't killed or exposed her yet, but it was only a matter of time. The baker however could only look at Teddy as the boy groaned with pain, trying to stand up again.

After a few more breathless seconds, the dark man pulled her into the alley right next to the former pie shop, away from the prying eyes. The most curious people followed them, but there was something in the stranger's eyes that drove them away when he pulled her into the darkness.

The girl because of whom all this had started however remained standing where she was, looking from the man to the baker herself and back. Her blue eyes were large but blank and even in that moment Mrs. Lovett was vaguely reminded of the way Johanna had looked during the night that she was freed from Judge Turpin.

Before she could wonder however why she was accompanied by this man and whether the stranger had done something horrible to her, the former pie baker was forced against a wet wall once again.

The man was so close to her now that she could feel the heat radiating off him, his hot breath reaching the sensitive skin of her now exposed neck. His body was almost pressing against her own and once again she realized that she was in deep trouble. Not in the way she had feared at first, but very badly anyway.

"Take care of the boy," the man growled to the girl.

To Mrs. Lovett's horror, the young girl hesitated only for a moment, then simply nodded and turned around, heading for Teddy who just managed to stand up again.

The baker struggled, not knowing yet what was going to happen to her boy, only that it would doubtlessly be very unpleasant indeed.

"Be _still_."

The last thing however that Mrs. Lovett indented to do, was allowing this man to take all from her what mattered to her.

"Leave him _alone," _she managed to shriek. "You can..."

A hand covered her mouth before she could finish her sentence. One of the arms that had kept her in place however thus disappeared. The baker took advantage immediately, sensing that she had to fight to ensure at least Teddy's survival.

While biting the hand that was covering her mouth as hard as she could, the baker kicked against the man's shin and tried to wriggle away from him.

But even as the man yelped in pain and Mrs. Lovett tasted the blood that ran from his hand, he kept her pressed against the wall, using his entire body now to prevent her from moving.

The hand against her mouth hadn't been replaced by the other one, but she had too much difficulty forcing herself to _breathe _to yell for help again. Her eyes too were closed, as if not seeing what he was going to do would make it easier to endure whatever it was that he intended to do.

The pain or terrified screams that she expected didn't come however, but it didn't make the baker feel at ease, not when being trapped between the cold wall behind her and the lean body of the man pressing her against it.

Seconds of silence passed, but they only added to her fear for herself, but most of all for the boy who needed her.

"Please," she whispered carefully against his hand when the man still seemed to be contemplating the fate he was going to bestow on the two of them. "I... I'd do anything. You can do to me whatever you want. But _please_, let the boy out of this."

She didn't expect him to honor her plea, not really. But as long as there was some hope of getting Teddy out of this unharmed, she would take it, no matter the consequences that this would have for herself.

"_Anything_?" he hissed in her ear, "you're willing to do anything for _him_?"

"I am," she whispered although she didn't believe that it would make a difference, trembling even though there was hardly space enough to do so.

She was yanked away from the wall, the stranger dragging her arms behind her back, making it impossible for her to escape once more even as she wasn't trapped against the wall any longer.

"I'm not going to harm him," he growled in her ear, making it more difficult to remain breathing even though his words appeared to be the ones she wanted to hear. "Look at him."

The baker opened her eyes slowly, in spite of what the man had said somehow believing to see the worst. But instead of seeing Teddy in pain – or worse – he was playing in the snow with the girl who seemed to belong to the man who was currently holding her in an iron grip.

They were continuing to build the snowman that Teddy had created earlier, seemingly oblivious to the things going on inside the dark alley. For a moment Mrs. Lovett thought that this was some kind of trick, but as the man held her against him and thus continued to enable her to look at the two children, it was clear to her that there was nothing fake about the way Teddy was smiling as he talked to the girl, their little hands covered in melting snow.

It was a huge relief to see that Teddy was alright and that there didn't seem to be anything that could change this in the very near future. This reminded her however of the situation she was in herself, of the promise she had made to the unknown man who was still holding her.

"What do you _want_?" she whispered, very much aware now of the bizarre way that the man was treating her and of the way her back was pressed against his chest.

"I'm going to let go off you," he replied, surprising her by doing so, "but you are going to stay right here with me. If you don't..."

He didn't need to complete the sentence in order for her to understand what he meant. No matter how tempting the idea of trying to escape was, it was very clear to her by now that there was no way that she could get away from the man without his permission.

The grip on her arms was loosened slowly, until they were free again. Her back was still facing the man, even as he stepped away from her. His hands however returned on her arms, forcing her to step backwards, deeper into the alley.

There was a rustle of fabric but she could see nothing except for the dark wall that was now in front of her, snow melting at the place where she had been pressed against it mere minutes ago. She vaguely realized that the back of her coat and dress were soaked, but it wasn't important at all.

"Turn around."

His voice was low and quite soft, but it was intimidating to such an extent that she obeyed immediately, even though she had no idea what the consequences would be.

Slowly, her feet made the required movements, carrying her body with it. When she had turned completely and her back was facing the wall instead of the man, her eyes were focused on the snow covered ground in front of her feet.

Only after another few seconds had passed, she found the strength to look up somewhat. She didn't know why, but there was something that prevented her from looking at the man who had deteriorated her already quite miserable life prospects within a matter of a few minutes.

Her gaze reached his feet first, but there was nothing particular about the shoes he was wearing or the edge of the trousers that partly covered them. It was rather unlikely indeed that there was something about _that _part of him that separated him from all men that had not threatened her and dragged her into an alley that day, but she did feel that there was something more than just _strange _about this man.

She looked further upward, taking in the black pants that he was wearing. They were cleaner and more expensive looking than she had expected from the man who had seemed rather uncivilized so far, but it was a vague observation that paled in comparison to something that she spotted almost at the same moment.

There was something connected to the belt he was wearing. It was an item that was awkwardly familiar to her even though she hadn't seen it for a decade. For a moment she told herself that it was just a mere coincidence – there were hundreds of barbers in this town after all, and thus an equal amount of men who were wearing a holster with a razor in it in such a way as the man who was currently standing in front of her did.

She _knew _that particular holster however and the few inches of the knife's metal that she could see from where she was standing left no room for doubt, no matter how much she wanted it to be otherwise.

Mrs. Lovett was more afraid than before to take a look at the man's face, but for a very different reason now. If this was indeed the person who he appeared to be, she was in even worse trouble than she had feared.

When her eyes focused on the man's face at last, the world seemed to stand still for a moment. The noises from outside the alley faded until they were inaudible; she was no longer aware of the chilly air surrounding her and even all thoughts of Teddy were forgotten for a moment.

His face was no longer hidden by the edges of the coat he was wearing and the baker found herself staring in the dark eyes of none other than Sweeney Todd.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Time passed but Nellie couldn't move. Her unbelieving eyes found it quite difficult to accept what they were seeing, but there was no denying that the barber who defined her life was standing right in front of her at that very moment.

Mr. Todd remained standing still, just like the flabbergasted baker. If he had been any other man, Mrs. Lovett would've used this opportunity to attempt to come up with a plan that could get her out of the situation, but now that she was so close to Sweeney again, thinking was a difficult thing indeed.

The feelings that had rushed through her just a few minutes ago, when she had simply been looking at the house where she used to live and work, returned as soon as she fully realized that _Sweeney Todd _was the man who had dragged her into the abandoned alley.

Even when she had been completely unaware of the fact that she would be face to face with the barber himself within minutes, it had been impossible for her to make sense of the countless emotions that arose within her as soon as she thought of him.

But now that she was standing only a few meters away from her, the assault of her thoughts and feelings regarding him was so powerful that it almost overwhelmed her. The baker's knees buckled, the intensity of the barber's gaze only adding to her confused and shocked state.

Sweeney took one small step in her direction, crossing some of the distance that was still between them. A part of Mrs. Lovett knew that she should step back, flee for her life again now that she was once more within reach of the man who had tried to kill her all those years ago.

She couldn't do it however. There was a force stronger than herself that prevented her from moving and didn't allow her to think. Even when the barber stepped a little closer to her again, eyes never ceasing their intense scrutiny of her face, she remained standing where she was.

The baker was vaguely horrified by her complete lack of reaction, by the fact that she couldn't decide whether she mostly felt fear for the demon who had attempted to murder her or affection for the barber who she had loved for as long as she could remember, even when she fully knew what sort of monster he had become during the last gruesome minutes that they had spent together in the bakehouse.

She couldn't even tear her gaze away from him. His eyes alone held her just as captive now as he in a way had always done, but she was rather sure that there was something in his gaze that had never been there before. She had no idea what this could be however and she might as well never know, having not a clue when – or if – she would be free from the spell that the barber was obviously still holding over her.

The sound of laughter reached the darkness of the alley and the ears of the two people who were standing in it. It distracted Mrs. Lovett for the shortest moment as she recognized Teddy's voice. She instinctively looked around for the boy, breaking her visual connection with Mr. Todd.

The baker couldn't see Teddy, but his voice sounded as cheerful as it usually was, both suggesting that he was safe and had already forgotten about what the barber had just done to him.

The distraction brought her some much needed clarity and relative peace, especially because it was quite a lot easier to breath now that she wasn't staring in Sweeney's mesmerizing eyes any longer.

As she listened closely, wanting to be sure that Teddy was safe indeed even though she couldn't see him and couldn't protect him, the boy's laughter mixed with the voice of someone else – a girl.

Because of this, the baker was reminded of the girl who had been with Sweeney, the one who had been interested in Teddy's snowman. Mrs. Lovett had been too preoccupied with both the barber and the boy to pay much attention to her, but now she realized how _odd _it was that the demon barber was accompanied by such a young and innocently looking girl.

At first sight, the man and the girl couldn't be more different from each other. In fact, Mrs. Lovett couldn't think of a single reason why the two of them were together in the first place. It didn't make sense for Sweeney to accompany a child; he couldn't stand people, let alone young ones. It had been clear enough whenever he only had to be in the same room as Toby all those years ago. Judging from the way he had flung Teddy out of his way as if the boy wasn't a human at all, suggested that he hardly had changed.

Teddy said something that Mrs. Lovett couldn't hear, but whatever he said amused the girl to such extent that she laughed, the sound of it echoing faintly between the walls that surrounded the baker and the barber. She couldn't be sure whether the girl who Teddy was talking to was indeed the same as the one who had accompanied Mr. Todd, but given the circumstances it was rather unlikely that this was someone else.

Even as she wondered about Teddy, the baker's eyes moved back to Sweeney's face. It was a habit that had formed during the few months that they had shared a house and was so strong that the time that they had spent far away from each other hadn't made an end to it.

The expression on the barber's face was one that she had never seen before. Not since he had returned to London ten years ago, at least. It would go too far to describe the look on his face as one of happiness, but his expression was certainly more delighted than anything she had seen since he had escaped from the colony – whether it was in their house in Fleet Street or in her own dreams.

He wasn't even looking at her anymore. This usually would've bothered her – the attention of Mr. Todd was to her more valuable than anything else – but now she was rather glad because of it. It gave her the opportunity to study the man without having those dark and distracting eyes focused on her.

But the expression on his face made it impossible for her to think rationally anyway. For so long she had dreamed of seeing him like this – but she wanted _herself _to be the cause of such a drastic change in the barber's usual gloomy mood, not some girl who could've been Johanna's sister.

Indeed, there was no reason for the barber to look after the girl, let alone be as overly protective as he had been when Teddy had tried to prevent the girl from touching his snowman. Absolutely no reason at all, unless...

The baker's eyes widened as she realized that there was only one possible reason why the barber behaved in such a way around the girl like he had done.

Mere moments before, she had been unable to even decide whether she was mostly relieved or afraid to see Sweeney again. All those emotions were mixed now with a new one, a feeling that she had hardly experienced since that night that Lucy had died by the hands of her own husband.

Blind jealousy rose inside her, overpowering the few logical thoughts that she was still capable of, and even her sense of self preservation. It was not that the barber hadn't already compromised that many times before, but this was different.

She had always been sure that Mr. Todd couldn't possibly hurt her more than trying to _kill _her after all what she had done for him. It seemed however that he had insulted and pained her in an even more cruel way than she had already thought.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she looked at the barber, at his face that was so much more beautiful now that his lips were turned slightly upwards and there was a hint of a sparkle in his eyes, almost smiling a little because of the cheerfulness of a child that should've been her own.

She forgot about the other child that was playing just outside the alley as the pain of not being the one who held the barber's affection overwhelmed her more powerfully than it had ever been before.

Only minutes ago, she had met the barber again, whether this was for better or worse. But now it was clear to her that it didn't matter at all – she had lost him once again already, long before they had met in front of the building where they used to live.

"How could you?" she shrieked, approaching the barber on shaky legs. She didn't know what she intended to do or hoped to achieve and even vaguely realized that anything she'd do would only make things worse. But the anger she felt because of what she was now convinced that he had done was stronger than anything else and made it impossible for her not to do _something _to out her rage and frustration. "How _could _you!"

Sweeney's eyes flashed back to her, his expression now one of confusion. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could do so Mrs. Lovett had reached him already and assailed him, fists hitting his chest.

Punching him however didn't bring any relief at all; he just kept standing there, completely unimpressed, as if he didn't even feel the impact of her fists. She felt ridiculous and pathetic now that she was basically humiliating herself in front of the man who she had loved for so long. It seemed however that there was no way back for her, no possibility to prevent herself from taking out her contradictory feelings on the man who never ceased to cause them.

Tears were leaking from her eyes and she hated herself for it, proving once again to him how _weak _she was. Rage and frustration still rushed through her being and even though she sensed that it wouldn't make any difference, she wished that she could hit him like this as long as she wanted, so he would at least be aware of some of the pain he had inflicted on her.

He grasped her forearms easily however, as if she was nothing but a small child. The baker tried to resist, attempting to tug her limbs out of his hands, but it was no use. He backed her against the wall, at almost the same spot where he had pushed her against it before.

The reaction of the baker was completely different however this time. She now knew who she was dealing with, that this man made everything so much worse than she had initially feared. But still, what bothered her most now had nothing to do with Teddy's safety, or her own.

She looked in his eyes again as he forced her to stay still, trapping her body with his own. There was a gleam in his eyes that she hadn't seen there before and the way he was pressed against her was quite different as well now that she knew who he was.

There had been times that she had longed to read something like this in his eyes, something of which she didn't know what it meant only that it was unlike the looks of hate and melancholy that she was used to. There had been days that she had dreamed of being touched by him like this. But now that those things were happening at last, she could only think of the way of which she was sure now that he had betrayed her.

"That girl," she whimpered, her voice partly disappearing just like her strength, "_why_?"

The last word completely summarized her lack of comprehension regarding his behavior, but she knew that it didn't matter. It was not as if _he _would ever understand how horrified she was that he had not only discarded her ten years ago as if she was nothing but an insect, but mostly that he had found a replacement for his late wife even though he had sworn to _her _that he would never do so. Judging by the age of the girl, he must've done so almost immediately after both of them had escaped from Fleet Street.

Sweeney however just looked at her, as if he wasn't impressed at all by the way she had just thrown herself at him and didn't feel anything as she cried right in front of him, something which she had always made sure not to do. He probably truly wasn't influenced by either part of her behavior, which wouldn't surprise the baker at all, but she couldn't tell. The expression on his face was once again just as blank and unreadable as it had been when they had worked together ten years ago.

She felt like she was left boneless by his close physical presence, even when she reminded herself that it was completely irrational to react to him like that. But even if she wouldn't have been immobile simply because his body was pressed against her own to keep her in place and prevent her from hitting him again, she wouldn't have been able to fight him.

Fleeing from him had saved her life ten years ago and she highly doubted that this situation was any different, but her treacherous body was simply content being trapped by Mr. Todd.

He stared at her in the way he had done earlier, taking in her face and hair. Mrs. Lovett hated herself for it, but she couldn't help but wonder how much she had changed physically since they had last seen each other, and what he would think if this.

She had been rather sure that he wouldn't be aware of the lines around her mouth and eyes, which were deeper and much more visible. She took pride in her hair, which was still just as long and fiery as it had always been, but it wasn't as if _he _would notice. But there was something in his eyes now, something deep beneath the seemingly blank surface, that made her wonder if this really was the case.

A few stubborn tears were still rolling slowly down her cheek, another source of weakness that she couldn't change. The baker blinked rapidly, hoping to appear at least a little bit stronger than she actually felt.

Mr. Todd moved his right hand towards her and she flinched, not knowing what he was going to do, although it would doubtlessly be something that she wouldn't like at all.

To her bewilderment, his fingers brushed against her cheek, wiping some of the tears away. If she hadn't known any better, she would've described the gesture as gentle. This only made her more confused however; he had never acted towards her like this, especially not after she had just launched herself at him.

He repeated the movement, fingertips brushing lightly against her skin. Mrs. Lovett sighed in spite of the situation, her being giving in to the touch immediately even though it seemed highly unlikely that the barber was doing this without a superior motivation that was far less pleasant than those caresses.

But the baker wanted to enjoy the touches as long as they lasted. She had dreamed of moments like this for almost as long as she could remember, but had never truly believed that she would ever experience them. So now that it _was _happening, no matter how unlikely it seemed, she savored it, even if it was the last thing she would ever do.

The gentle touches became caresses as he had banished all tears from her face and although Mrs. Lovett didn't trust the barber at all, especially not now that he was behaving like _this_, she gladly let him.

She trembled as his fingers brushed against her cheek and nose, his movements still careful and almost tender. Her eyes fluttered close and she fully leaned back against the wall, needing all the support she could get now that the barber was assaulting her senses in such a completely unexpected way.

Even though she felt that it probably wasn't without risk, she leaned in to his touch as she was safely standing against the wall, wanting to feel as much of him as possible. If she didn't know better, she would've sworn that Sweeney gasped when she tilted her head fully against his extended hand.

"It's too late."

His voice was so soft that she almost didn't hear him. She didn't understand what he meant with this however, but she didn't care. He caused sensations that were unlike anything she had ever known, so sweet and perfect that she wanted the moment to last for a very, very long time.

His fingers moved downwards, towards her lips. The baker held her breath in anticipation, her body trembling at the mere idea of being touched by him like that.

The caress she had been expecting however never came. Instead, his fingers suddenly were gone. Before the baker even registered this, Sweeney twined his hand in her hair and yanked at it, forcing her face to angle towards his own.

Her eyes flew open, meeting the ones of the barber himself, which were darker than they had ever been before. Fear did its best to make an end to the unjustified euphoria she had felt seconds ago, but she still couldn't help but feel grateful for what just had happened, no matter what it really meant and no matter what he was going to do now.

His face was very near to her own now and although the way she was standing was uncomfortable because of the way Sweeney forced her to do so, she once again couldn't help but be glad for being in such close proximity of him, of having the chance to get lost in his eyes like she had never been able to before.

She thought at first that it was only her imagination, but when his nose and lips were almost touching her own, it was clear to her that he was indeed moving closer to her. Both the rhythm of her breath and her heart altered significantly when it really looked like he was going to kiss her.

Mrs. Lovett was inwardly looking for an explanation for this most unusual behavior, even now not believing that he was truly going to do what she thought – and secretly hoped – he would. She couldn't think of any reason however why he would approach her like he was currently doing, especially not one that would benefit her as well.

The only possible outcomes were unpleasant for her indeed, but once again she found herself incapable of being bothered by this. She felt Sweeney's breath against her skin and her eyes closed on their own accord once more, her body surrendering to the barber even though she had learned the he was capable of truly horrible things and that she didn't mean anything to him – a combination that had already turned out to be a very bad one once before.

The kiss, when it came after a few more endless seconds, was a surprise, even though she had seen it coming. But the idea of Sweeney Todd kissing her was so absolutely ridiculous – just as unlikely as running in to him in front of their former home in Fleet Street after ten years – that it didn't seem to be really possible even when he had moved his face so close to her own.

His lips rested against hers for a moment and even though the touch was so light that she hardly felt it, it was overpowering to such an extent that her baker feared that she was going to faint. She had always imagined that actually kissing Mr. Todd was quite an overwhelming thing indeed, but in reality this turned out to be even more so than she had thought.

"Too late," he whispered against her lips, and although she had still no idea what he was talking about, the only thing that mattered were the sensations that were caused by the movement of his mouth against her own.

Even if they would've been standing like that for a few hours, it would've been too short for Mrs. Lovett. But the chaste kiss ended much sooner than that, before the baker had been able to fully comprehend what was going on.

Sweeney tugged at her hair again, causing her mouth to open in a silent scream of surprise. This was nothing compared however to the wave of shock that went through her when he took this opportunity to kiss her again, using her instinctive reaction to gain access to her mouth.

The kiss was harsh and clumsy. During the first few seconds, Mrs. Lovett was too bewildered to even realize what was happening, let alone react in a suitable way. Mr. Todd was rather insistent however, continuing to push her against the wall as he held her firmly and invaded her mouth with his tongue.

Although her being was hardly capable of analyzing what was happening, the baker didn't need any thought or knowledge to understand what was going on at that very moment. Even though nothing of all of this made any sense to her, her body knew subconsciously what it had to do.

This was probably caused by all those long and dark nights that she had spent alone in her bed for such a long time, longing for a man who wasn't hers. Even when they had fallen in a relatively civil system of communication during those last few weeks before the Judge's death, it had been clear to her that the barber wouldn't even consider thinking of her the way she wanted him to.

Mrs. Lovett had been convinced that he would never love her. This was a painful realization indeed, but it wasn't in the baker's nature to give up. Even though she knew that the wouldn't care for her emotionally, she had begun to try to find ways to seduce the barber in a less complete way. If his body was the only thing she could have, then she would gladly take it.

In those weeks before he took her last hope away from her, she had actually thought that she'd be able to tempt him enough. In retrospect she realized how stupid it had been of her; she should've known that even this was a kind of love that the barber didn't want to share with anyone except for his lost wife.

But she hoped when she still had the smallest bit of reason to do so. She had fooled herself in many ways, but even she hadn't believed that the barber would be tender and gentle with her if that moment of surrender ever came.

In the darkness and solitude of her bedroom she had imagined rough kisses, firm hands in her hair and on her breasts, bruises on her thighs and arms. It didn't matter to her however that the only kinds of intimacy she could imagine with the barber were filled with violence and disdain. If that was the only way that she could have him, it was better than not having him at all.

Ever since he had returned to London ten years ago, Mr. Todd had been a most unpredictable man. Mrs. Lovett had known that if there would come a day that he would give in to her desires, she wouldn't get any warning. It would just _happen _and she would have to take her chance immediately, before the shortest moment of 'weakness' that the barber allowed himself was over.

Whenever he had come closer to her than usual, she had been alert – not to attempt to get away from him unharmed, but to make sure that she would notice it immediately when his indifference towards her had come to an end at last. She always watched him, always reminded herself to take that one chance as soon as it presented itself.

The few times that he had stepped into her personal space however he had only done so to shake her up or press a razor against the pale skin of her neck, taking out a part of his endless anger on her. Never there was even the slightest hint of something more than that. And even when he had made clear in the ultimate way that he didn't want to have anything to do with her, she spent the years that followed fantasizing about moments of anger that turned somehow into something much more than that.

So when she found herself in the alley with the barber, surrounded by nothing but darkness and silence, she didn't really _have _to think. Giving in to whatever it was that he wanted was a reaction that she had considered and mentally practiced so often, that her body didn't need confirmation from her mind to know what to do.

She had absolutely no idea what the barber wanted, what he tried to achieve this way. She didn't have a clue what had happened to him during the past ten years, whether he had changed as much as the previous time that he had been gone for so long.

The baker also sensed that he couldn't possibly be up to anything good. He probably had used the time that had passed since she had managed to escape from him to think of the ultimate way to kill her after all, just in case he would find her again. That night, she had been silly enough to pour out her feelings of love and adoration for him at the moment that he least wanted to hear it; doubtlessly, he was using it against her now.

She wouldn't be surprised that he was doing this only to distract her, to stab one of those razors of his in her back when she was kissing him. Surely, his crazed mind would consider it the ultimate way of vengeance, a scheme even more glorious than the one to kill the Judge and the Beadle had been.

Although thoughts like this were rushing around in the back of her head, warning the parts of her desperate body that might listen, the baker ignored them even as those same thoughts reminded her how this had worked out for her the last time.

Even if she would've been fully aware of the risk, the baker wouldn't have been able to do anything else. It was only natural for her body to give in to the demands of the man who she probably still loved as much as she had always done. In a way the same went for her mind; it had both desired and practiced reacting to his violent affection for so long, that it had no choice but to do so now.

So when Mr. Todd kissed her, even though it absolutely made no sense to her at all, she simply attempted to kiss him back, trying to deepen the kiss.

He growled when she reacted to him this way. She had no idea whether he was angry or upset because she kissed him back, or if this was perhaps the sign of confirmation she had always been looking for.

His arms went around her waist, holding on to her so tightly that it hurt. Because of the force of his touches and kisses she was backed up against the wall behind her once again.

The kiss was painful and indeed rather unpleasant, but it was much like she had expected it. She herself was rather incapable of returning it without despair and fierceness, her nails clawing at his neck to keep close to him and her teeth biting on his lips harder than they should, just like he did.

She was too lost in the moment to realize such things however and a part of her knew that the same was true for the barber. It was more about the apparent impossibleness of finally connecting with him this way than the actual experience of doing so.

"You didn't wait for me."

Mrs. Lovett hardly heard him, too caught up in the painful pleasure he was causing. The accusing tone of his voice was something she had never heard before though, or at least, not with the edge of regret that he didn't fully conceal.

"Look who's talking," she managed to say just before he bit down on the exposed skin of her shoulder, leaving more marks. She didn't mind at all however. The things he said reminded her of the child that seemed to belong to him. "That girl of yours..."

"Victoria is _twelve_," he growled after another moment, moving his mouth to her other shoulder.

He bit with such force that he actually broke her skin. The baker groaned as the sharp pain mixed with the tormented pleasure she was feeling already. She didn't understand his anger, but if it was his rage that somehow caused him to act like this, she was grateful for whatever it was that had caused it.

Under the barber's assault she had no chance whatsoever to consider the cryptic remark he just made, the girl's age failing to be of any importance to her at that very moment.

Mr. Todd moved his face lower, hands roaming over her hips and lower back as he licked the blood away that his teeth had just drawn. She threw her head back, hardly aware of the added pain as it accidentally slammed against the wall, of which she had forgotten that it was right behind her even though she was leaning fully against it now that her legs were far from stable.

He tore her old coat open as if it had never been closed at all, sending the buttons flying in various directions. The air that the fabric had partly protected her from was cold, but it was a welcome feeling against her flushed skin.

Her hands twined in the barber's hair, pushing his face more firmly against her body. To her delight, he moved further downwards, biting and kissing his way to her breasts. He smeared blood over every inch of skin that his lips touched, but Mrs. Lovett couldn't care less.

She was panting, head resting against the wall and knees shaking when his tongue and teeth assaulted her skin. Before he reached the edges of her dress however, he didn't simply tear them out of his way like she had vaguely expected him to. Instead, he moved up again, pulling her closer for another demanding kiss.

Their noses bumped against each other and their teeth clashed once again, but to Mrs. Lovett it was only a continuation of the kiss that was by far the best one she had ever known, even as she was tasting her own blood on his lips.

Adrenaline rushed through her system as Mr. Todd's hands moved below her back, holding her firmly and lifting her until she was equal to him in height to pin her against the wall with his own body. She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist, both making herself more comfortable and bringing herself even closer to him, but she presumed that Mr. Todd wouldn't like her to take things _that _far.

Her fear of driving him away by doing so however seemed to be unfounded. The barber himself slid his hands down her legs, drawing up her skirts while doing so, coercing her around him after all.

The fact that she was being kissed by Sweeney was something that would take a long time to sink in. But now that he seemed to want to think things even further, Mrs. Lovett truly was dumbfounded.

There were dozens of reasons why she should stop him. But even if she somehow would've been able to persuade the barber to cease his intimate progress, she wouldn't have wanted to.

Just because the world stopped making sense didn't mean that she couldn't enjoy it, no matter what the consequences would be afterwards. She had never cared too much for the difference between make believe and real life anyway.

Even as he tried to get the old but still heavy fabric of her skirts out of his way, Mr. Todd never stopped his assault on the skin of her neck, biting and sucking as if he had to made up for the years that he hadn't done so. The evidence that he left of whatever it was that he outed by touching her like this wouldn't be gone for a long time. She vaguely wondered how on earth she was going to explain this to Teddy – if there _would _be a later when Mr. Todd was done with her – but that was another worry that she was both incapable and unwilling to think of just yet.

Fearing that he would simply tear her skirts apart if she didn't interrupt – now _that _would be difficult to explain to Teddy – she let go off his neck. Trusting that he wouldn't break away from her even if she wasn't clinging to him any longer, she moved her hands to the point where there bodies were now pressed against each other even more intimately than before. She pulled the fabric out of the impatient barber's hands to prevent him from simply ripping it apart, hiking it up with as much care as her heated state allowed her.

Mr. Todd took the chance to put his hands to use elsewhere. His fingers slid up the legs he had just displayed and the baker moaned because of the barber's bold touch.

"Your husband is a lucky man," Sweeney said as he moved his hand higher and higher, roughly caressing every part of her leg that he past.

"I'm... I'm not married," the baker gasped.

Talking wasn't something that she liked to do at that moment, but the barber's presumption was one that she simply had to correct.

He squeezed her thigh as he registered those words, hard. Mrs. Lovett didn't feel as much of it as she would've done in any other situation however. Everything else that her senses experienced was nothing compared to the way she anticipated the presence of his fingers and perhaps even more, just a few inches above the place where his hand was currently rested.

"So you just slept with someone, is that it? Or more than one man?"

There was a rage in his voice that she had never heard before, not even when he had ranted about the Judge and the Beadle before he had managed to kill them.

"I don't... I don't understand," the baker whimpered, disappointment and confusion replacing the lust and triumph that had dominated her just a few seconds before. "What are you talking about?"

"You said you loved me," he hissed in her ear, his fingernails still digging painfully into her upper leg. "You said that you'd be twice the wife that Lucy had been."

Mrs. Lovett's mind spun. She had no idea that Mr. Todd actually remembered that she had said that – she hadn't thought that the barber had remembered anything about her except for the fact that she had lied about the true whereabouts of his wife.

The baker closed her eyes, trying to _focus_. She had allowed her brain to stop functioning actively as soon as the barber had approached her in that way he had never done before, but this wasn't exactly working in her favor now that he seemed to demand an actual answer of her.

She blinked rapidly, breathing in deeply in an attempt to grasp the meaning of the things that the barber had said to her. He turned out to remember what she had said to him just before he had attempted to kill her. Even stranger, it seemed that he was taking an interest in her personal life. Why would _he _care whether she was married or not? He had never bothered to be even remotely interested in her private life during those months that they had lived and worked together.

Why did he want to know now – why did he actually seem _upset _by the thought that she had slept with someone? Ten years had passed after all, she had had plenty of opportunities to form relationships with men who _did _care about her. She had never done so however – no matter what he did to her, there was only one man who she wanted. But it was not as if _he _knew that.

"How many where there?" he growled, pushing her more forcefully against the bricks behind her. "How _many_?"

"No one," she whispered truthfully, "there was no one."

"Do not _lie _to me again," he hissed.

He withdrew his hand from her leg, only to use one hand to grasp her arms and pin her more firmly against the wall, forcing one of his knees between her legs until she couldn't even move any longer. The other hand went to her face, yanking her chin upwards so she was forced to look him in the eye.

"It's not a lie," she said, trying to sound more powerful and certain than she actually felt. "I haven't married since I... left Fleet Street. I hadn't even considered it. And I haven't slept around either, if that's what you're suggesting."

The look in his eyes was the strangest one she had ever seen. His eyes softened somewhat as she assured him that she was telling him the truth, but there was an anger and a pain in his gaze that couldn't be compared to anything she had seen there whenever he thought of either his family or the ones who had destroyed it.

"But that _boy_," he grumbled. "The one who calls you 'Mum' and looks _just like you_. Am I supposed to believe that he just fell out of the air?"

The baker's eyes widened as she realized what the barber was talking about. Of course, he had seen Teddy and he had presumed immediately that he was her son.

"There, _see_?" he hissed as he saw her reaction, interpreting her look of surprise for one of confession.

"He's not my son," she said firmly.

"Of course he isn't."

His words were rough and angry, but his look was one of sadness, one of pain. The baker felt sorry for him, not wanting to cause him any more suffering even though she had no idea why he reacted to her and Teddy the way he did. A part of her mind was screaming that her pity was completely unjustified, seeing that the same man was currently basically holding her captive and accusing her of all kind of things that she wouldn't even consider was also the one who had almost managed to kill her.

"No he isn't," she said, much calmer than she actually felt. "Teddy is my sister's son. But I'm the one who is looking after him since she and her husband died."

The events of that day had been bizarre and completely unexpected to say the least. Especially Mr. Todd's behavior was so odd that she couldn't really be sure whether this wasn't just another dream, even though the small wounds and other injuries he had just inflicted on her were more than real enough.

The biggest surprise however was still to come. The barber stared into her eyes, looking at her in a way he had never done before, not even during the minutes that just had passed. Two pairs of dark eyes locked and even though his eyes were usually so blank and empty that even she couldn't read them, the baker could now see every single emotion that went through him.

Surprise, relief, shock... joy? The way his eyes almost seemed to lit up after several long seconds could certainly be described as such, although it was strange indeed to see such an expression on his face. It was even weirder of course because she apparently was the one who had caused it... by informing him that she wasn't married and wasn't connected to any other man whatsoever, and that the boy of who he had thought that he was her son was actually her nephew.

He blinked, breaking their eye contact. He focused his attention on their current position instead and she more felt than saw now the blow of horror that hit him when he saw the way he had her pressed against the wall.

Sweeney released his iron grasp on her arms, freeing his knee from its position between her legs. She could tell that he was truly shocked by what he just had done and although she was glad that he seemed to be sorry for handling her as strangely as he had done, she generally didn't tend to like things that confused her or distanced the barber from her.

Whatever it was that was going on seemed to cause both. What worried her most however was the barber himself. He had been strong enough to do to her whatever that he wanted so recently, but now he appeared to be the one shaking on his legs, looking at her as if he had seen a ghost.

"Mr. Todd?" she asked carefully, reaching for him but not quite daring to touch him.

The man looked as if he was going to be sick. Whether she wanted to or not, the baker couldn't help her natural urge to help him, no matter what he had done to her in the past and just now.

"I... I'm so sorry," he gasped, "I shouldn't have..."

She had no idea what he was going to say, but those words suggested that it was safe enough to help him. The baker rushed to his side, hands supporting his taller body. Upon feeling her touch, the barber's legs simply seemed to gave out beneath him.

The baker and the barber ended up in the now muddy snow in an inelegant mess of coats and limbs. He immediately reached for her however, pulling her up until she was sitting right next to him when she didn't resist, not taking his hands away even when their shoulders were touching.

Mrs. Lovett didn't have a clue what was going to happen during the next minute, let alone what the rest of the day was going to bring.

But for now she couldn't worry about it. She was sitting against the man who she loved and who no longer seemed to hold any grudge against her. Even though they were sitting uncomfortably on the wet and hard stones of the alley, in an area of London were probably every inhabitant still wanted her dead, she couldn't feel safer or happier.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"So that boy isn't your son."

Mrs. Lovett looked up, not expecting the barber to speak – he wasn't really known to do that, after all. His voice however betrayed that he still didn't fully believe her and that he wanted to be fully convinced.

"He isn't my son" she replied, wanting to make sure that he knew the truth. "He's my nephew, the son of my older sister."

"But what... why..."

The barber seemed truly confused by this and she couldn't really blame him. The situation was somewhat odd after all and it wasn't as if the man had much experience caring about other persons when she had still known him. Her motivations might be hard for him to understand, but she was certainly going to try to convince him.

"After you killed Judge Turpin, I... fled from London. When I felt that it was safe enough, I went to Newcastle. I knew that my sister still lived there and that she had no way of knowing for sure that I was the one responsible for... well. I found work in a bakery and moved in with her and her husband. Teddy was born when I was already with them, but both of them died within a few years and I've been raising him since. He can hardly remember his actual mother and keeps insisting that he's my natural son."

Sweeney was silent, obviously processing the information. There wasn't an objective indication of this, but she had the feeling that he realized that she was telling him nothing but the truth.

Mrs. Lovett was very eager to know his story; although she had very often tried to persuade herself that this was not the case, she was very eager to know what he had done after they had separated ten years ago. Now that the man himself was actually sitting next to her, the temptation to ask him about what he had done during the past decade was a big one indeed. But she forced herself to remain silent, sensing that the barber still probably didn't like to be pushed by her.

"When I went to Fleet Street, I had _no _idea that you would be here. If I would've known..."

Although she was very curious about what he was going to say, the barber didn't finish his sentence.

"I can't believe how foolish I've been."

It was another statement of which she didn't know how to react to it. The barber looked at her however, clearly expecting some kind of reply.

Mrs. Lovett simply looked back, not knowing what he was expecting of her. She didn't want to disappoint him – she wanted to say exactly what he wanted to hear. Losing him again, especially now that it seemed that his opinion of her had somehow changed drastically, would be unbearable indeed.

To her relief, he was distracted by something, causing him to look away from her face. But when she found him staring at her chest, there wasn't much left of that respite. Fearing that their was an inappropriate hole in her dress or something like that, she looked down as well.

It turned out that he was watching the drying blood that was left after his attempts to kiss and lick it away earlier. She watched him with caution, knowing of quite some of his strange tendencies when it came the red source of life.

But there was no murderous glance in his eyes when he stared at her, no sign of bloodlust. There was only concern and shame and even though this was something she wasn't used to at all, she was very glad to see it.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

The words were so strange when they were spoken by him, but she could hear that he meant them. She still didn't know what exactly he was apologizing for, but it was so good to hear it anyway.

"Let me," he said, as she reached for the stained skin herself.

The barber took a perfectly white handkerchief from his pocket. It wasn't an item that she would have ever associated with the barber. She took a proper look at his clothing when he turned around to fully face her. The expensive coat and the now soaked trousers that she had seen just before he had dragged her into the alley looked very different now that she knew that Sweeney Todd was the one who was wearing them. He had obviously done well during the years after the completion of his schemes. She was happy for him, but at the same time she felt rather ashamed of herself. She didn't even want to consider what he was thinking as he looked at her old dress and worn coat.

She meant to ask him how it could be that he could afford such fine clothing, but he was reaching for her already, beginning to wipe away the blood that he had drawn earlier. The baker flinched intuitively as he did so, for good reason being still suspicious of this man.

He hushed her however and the sound was enough to make her feel more at ease than she usually was whenever she was in her small home with Teddy. She tilted her head back without giving it a second thought, giving him full access to the precious pale skin beneath her collarbones.

She couldn't really see him because of the position of her head, but she was rather convinced that she heard him gasp. She had no idea why he would do so – until the soft fabric brushed against her skin for the first time. The pleasantness of the motion did rather strange things to her breathing as well.

The barber moved to her side now, supporting her head with one hand while removing the drying blood from her skin with the handkerchief. Mrs. Lovett's eyes closed on their own accord as she surrendered herself to the barber's attention, which made her blush slightly even though the gestures were innocent and tender.

As his hand moved lower however, removing the blood that his mouth had smeared there when she had thought that he was actually going to tear her dress away to expose her chest to his hungry mouth, their movements weren't quite so impeccant.

The baker's breath became heavier as Mr. Todd was touching her and she could hear that the same went for him. In spite of the situation she couldn't help but smile a little because the barber's perception of her obviously had changed so much during the past decade.

She had no idea however what had caused this and how exactly he felt about her now, and this realization sobered her quickly. Perhaps this was the reason that she didn't mind when Sweeney moved somewhat away from her as soon as he had cleaned her skin.

Mrs. Lovett looked at him again, having no idea what was going to happen next. Her eyes fell on the formerly white fabric, right before he pushed it back into his pocket. It was a strange sight to see her own blood on the barber's handkerchief, especially because of the way that the wounds were caused in the first place and the care with which he had removed the red stains.

She noticed that there was still some of her blood right above his lips. Not allowing herself to wonder whether it was disturbing or actually fascinating to see this, she pointed at it, bringing his attention to it. It would be unfortunate indeed if someone else would see it; being where they were now was dangerous enough already, especially now that they were reunited.

The barber wiped his mouth with his hand, but he missed the blood that the baker had seen. At the curt shake of her head, he tried again. This attempt too was unsuccessful.

Mrs. Lovett reached for the spot, pointing at it from a closer distance to help him. When her finger came even closer to his mouth however he did nothing to stop her and didn't seem to intend to remove the blood himself. Mustering her courage, the baker herself moved her finger against his face, brushing away the small red stain with her own fingertip.

Her hand shook lightly as she did so. Not wanting him to see this, she intended to pull back as soon as possible. Before she could do this however, Sweeney took her hand in his own, holding it in front of him.

Their eyes locked again and the barber brought her hand to his mouth with silent determination. It was not just her hand that was trembling as she awaited his next actions with much anticipation.

His lips brushed against the calloused skin of her hand, causing the baker to sigh, both because of the physical pleasantness of the gesture and the tenderness with which he performed it. There was nothing left of the aggression he had showed earlier, his touch as careful and gentle as the words he had just spoken to her.

Mr. Todd looked at her, as if he was actually gauging her reaction. She was very eager for him to continue but could do nothing but stare at the hand that he had kissed in awe, not fully believing what was happening.

This seemed to be enough confirmation to the barber. He repeated the action, his lips lingering on her skin for a few seconds longer. The baker gasped because of the totally unfamiliar sensations that Sweeney caused, not having expected anything like this even once during the decades that she had secretly longed for him.

Although she couldn't speak, he somehow seemed to be aware of how much she enjoyed his touch. He did it again, and again, turning her hand around to kiss her palm. The skin covering this part of her body was more sensitive than the other side of her hand, not as hardened by her long hours of work in the bakery. No matter how pleasant his earlier caresses it had been, it was nothing compared to the feeling of her palm being touched by his lips and tongue.

The snow around them was reduced to mud, the melting water mixing with the usual layers of dirt that covered the streets in London. The substance soaked the already thin clothing that she was wearing, but she didn't feel it at all, just like she wasn't aware of the hardness of the cobblestones she was sitting on. Her eyes fluttered close as her body seemed to cease to exist except for the hand that the barber was touching.

After what just felt like a few seconds however, it was over. Or at least, Sweeney let go off her hand and stood up, making it appear to the baker as if he was acting as if nothing extraordinary just had happened.

She forced herself to open her eyes and return later inwardly to the wonderfulness that his strange kisses had caused within her. Now Mrs. Lovett found him standing in front of her, extending his hand to her. She took it in her own and he pulled her on her feet. The baker looked around bewildered, not sure why Sweeney had stopped.

Without saying a word, he gently pushed her backwards. She didn't know why, until she felt the wall against once again. Judging from the lack of snow she felt against her bare skin, it was the exact same spot as where they had been several times earlier.

The situation couldn't differ more now from the ones before. The baker however still didn't understand what was going on and she was very curious indeed regarding the things that were going through Sweeney's head, what made him act the way he did. But complaining was the last thing she would do.

The pressure of the hands that rested on her arms was very light now, as he gave her the chance to stop him if she wanted to. Mrs. Lovett however had no problem at all being backed against the wall once more now that the look in the barber's eyes was one that might as well have been her own.

He leaned in to her again, this time slowly and a bit more hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure whether both of them actually wanted this. Even though she had absolutely no idea what was going on, she was more than happy to approach him like this again.

During the moment that he took to close the distance between them, Mrs. Lovett suddenly realized, with the small part of her mind that was still somewhat functional, where she was exactly.

There was nothing special about the side of the wall that she was currently leaning against, but as she saw the windows on the first floor of the other side of the back street from the corner of her eye, which were visible right behind Sweeney's head now, she concluded that she was now touching the wall of her former parlor.

In fact, judging from the position of the windows that she could just make out behind Mr. Todd, she was only a few yards separated from her favorite arm chair, the one that was most comfortable and closest to the hearth. She had spent more hours than she cared to remember just sitting there, staring at the flames, imagining what it would be like to be touched by the barber the way she wanted him to.

It was quite ironic that she had, in a way, found out already while being so close to that spot. The way that Sweeney was approaching her now however suggested that she didn't know anything yet. The look in his eyes couldn't differ more from the way he had looked at her when he had still been under the assumption that she had been involved with another man.

He hadn't given her a single clear reason for his sudden and complete change of behavior, but as his lips brushed against hers, she didn't need any explanation. The chaste kiss was very much like the very first one that they had shared. It couldn't have been more than several minutes ago, even though it felt like hours.

Instead of being overruled by something more powerful than himself, something that had indeed reminded her a bit of the craziness that had possessed him whenever he had been about to kill someone, there was nothing now that even remotely suggested that he wasn't doing this out of his own and free will.

There was no anger, no regret, when he pressed his lips more firmly against her own. His breath was irregular, just like hers, and it was a huge relief for her that Mr. Todd seemed to be just as overwhelmed as she was herself.

His hands tangled in her hair again, but this time to caress it and pull her carefully closer to himself. He angled his head a little, so their noses weren't pressing against one another as they had done before.

Although she had always imagined that she would be the one having to take the initiative as soon as she got the chance, Mrs. Lovett was rather content now just to let the barber take her to whatever it was that he had in mind.

She had always been sure that kissing him was the easiest thing to do as soon as he was willing to do so – getting to that point was the difficult part. Or at least, that was what she had always thought. But when Sweeney hesitated for a long moment, as if he was uncertain whether he actually wanted to proceed, she found herself being just as still as he was.

The baker however was as convinced as she had always been that she wanted this, even though she still didn't know how it could be that it was even happening. So even though she was afraid that she would ruin it somehow, she decided that she had to take the lead.

Taking matters into her own hands now that this chance was given to her, the baker experimentally opened her mouth a little. Her eyes were tightly shut and it was usually difficult enough already to have any clue whatever it was that Mr. Todd was thinking, but it was even harder now that she couldn't even see him.

He didn't seem to react and Mrs. Lovett's heart was pounding, but more with nervousness than anything else. She herself felt awkward, standing there in the dark alley with her lips pressed against those of the man she loved with all of her heart, but who she hardly knew any longer – as far as she had ever done so in the first place.

Fearing that she had somehow done anything that she shouldn't have, even though Mr. Todd was the one who had initiated the kiss to begin with, she pulled back, not wanting to risk to anger him again.

Just before the kiss was ended however, Sweeney's lips shifted against hers. She stood completely still, not sure what he was doing, until the tip of his tongue darted out from between his opening mouth.

Eyes closed, she responded to him as well as he could, trying not to pay too much attention to the frantic realization that the barber was actually kissing her. She met his tongue with her own, a jolt of pure delight going through her system when he trembled slightly at the contact and opened his mouth wider to allow her more access.

Now that he had crossed the invisible boundary that had stopped him earlier, he wrapped his arms around her, all hesitation gone. The kiss was slow and sensual as they familiarized themselves with each other, tasting and feeling as much as they could. Breathing was quite difficult to do at the same time, but neither of them were aware of the lack of air, the kiss itself leaving them light-headed.

The first times that he had kissed her, she had been too dumbfounded to actually feel and savor what he was doing. Which was perhaps a good thing, seeing the nature of those kisses. This was completely different now however. She could feel everything, was totally aware of every touch and caress, every sigh and moan.

He hadn't talked about anything that had happened to him during the past decade and she could only hope that there would come a moment that he would – that everything wouldn't be over as soon as they left the alley, to continue the lives that they had lived before they had run into each other.

There was something in his kiss however, something in the way he seemed to be cherishing her very essence as he touched her, that spoke of lonely and empty years of longing without hope.

As the kiss continued, it became more heated, defined by urgency and need. There was nothing left of the earlier awkwardness as they found a more frenzied rhythm.

Mrs. Lovett had never truly anticipated how wonderful it would be to be kissed by the barber. Never having known anything first hand but her late husband's clumsy and sloppy kisses, this was a delight indeed. She understood now that even the coy Mrs. Barker had kissed the barber whenever she had had the chance, even when they had been in public.

Lucy was however the last person that Mrs. Lovett was thinking of now that one of her most cherished fantasies was becoming reality. And if the fierceness and enthusiasm that Mr. Todd was kissing her with was any indication, neither was he.

Just like he had done before, he moved his face lower, kissing and licking his way to the part of her chest that her dress left exposed. This too lacked the earlier anger and aggression and although she had in a way enjoyed his previous assault, this was infinitely better.

He pressed her against the wall more firmly, but she was hardly aware of it. Only when he gathered handfuls of the fabric of her mud-soaked dress, hiking it up again, she realized that when he had done so earlier hadn't been simply a moment of madness - it was something that he actually wanted.

"Are you certain?"

She couldn't believe that she was actually asking him this. But everything was so unexpected, so important and so sudden, that she didn't want him to regret anything. She had the feeling that there would be other chances, in more comfortable circumstances – but that didn't mean that she didn't want to go on now, not at all. Just as long as they didn't potentially ruin anything.

"I am," he replied, his voice trembling. "And you?"

The baker could only smile, both because of the way he was reacting to her and the unnecessary question that he asked her.

The expression on his face was the closest to a smile that she had seen on it since he had returned to London after he had escaped from the colony.

He kissed her again, hands holding tightly on to the pulled up fabric of her dress, before he lifted her several inches off the ground again. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist as soon as she could, causing the barber to gasp as their bodies were pressed together.

The baker's breath hitched as well at the incredible physical contact, feeling every inch of his desire. It seemed so unlikely that he could actually react to her in such a way, but at that moment the baker didn't care what had caused it, as long as he didn't stop before he freed her from the sweet ache that began to build deep inside of her.

She vaguely knew that they had to be quiet in order to prevent any of the dozens of people who were walking in Fleet Street at that very moment from hearing them. The alley had been rather abandoned so far, its reputation probably just as bad as the building right next to it. However, being found out by the people who she had escaped a decade ago was less appealing than it had ever been. Death seemed so much more crueler than it had always been now that she was about to have the barber in the ultimate way after all.

Mr. Todd didn't make it easy for her however. Instead of getting the last layers of fabric between them out of the way like she had expected him to do, he kissed her again. It was as breathtaking as it had been before and the baker tried to focus on the way his fingers dug into her hips in order not to lose her sanity as the barber's kiss seemed to reach her very soul.

His grip was loosening however, possibly because the kiss left him just as weak as her. Because of this she begun sliding down his waist; the muscles in her legs had released their grasp on him as well as the kiss had left her just as powerfulness as him.

He tried to regain his hold on her, but his hands found nothing but the fabric of her skirt. Mrs. Lovett had never been fond of the heavy and impractical things, but she had never hated them more as now, when they prevented Mr. Todd from holding her properly against him.

As she was almost tumbling down, unable to find her own balance, he intuitively moved his lower body forward, managing to pin her against the wall once more and prevent her from falling. While doing so however the sources of their want were rubbed against each other, causing a friction that was completely unlike anything they had felt earlier.

The baker cried out, not having any other way to express the pleasure that the movement had caused, even though she knew that they had to stay quiet to remain undetected. The barber mirrored her reaction, his grunt by far the most arousing sound she had ever heard, driving her only wilder with desire.

For a moment they just clung to each other, breath raging as the aftermath of the mostly accidental touch wrecked havoc on their systems. The lower half of her body was still pressed against his and it was a source of great torment, in both senses of the word.

She could feel with her entire being that he did all that he could to prevent himself from doing it again. She could faintly understand that he would lose all control if it felt only half as good to him as it had done to her. It was incredible to find out that she could do this to him, that she could influence the man that had always acted so cold and indifferent towards her this way.

He would also most likely drop her if he were to repeat the motion. The baker sighed inwardly with frustration, finding it hopelessly ironic that even if all barriers seemed to be out of the way, there always appeared to be something else, something annoyingly trivial, that prevented her from giving in to her desire for the barber at last.

The situation was completely surreal in her own eyes, but a part of her couldn't help but think how utterly bizarre the scene must be for anyone but themselves. Or at least, the baker herself knew that _she_ would be rather shocked if she would walk in on a similar pair.

It would be strange indeed to find a man and a woman who were almost past the prime of their lives, so desperate for each other that they weren't capable of finding what they needed most, struggling for release in the small and dirty alley right next to the house where they had lived for so long without having a clue that anything remotely like this would take place one day.

"This doesn't work."

The frustration in the barber's voice was so clear that she would've felt it even if she hadn't shared the emotion to the same extent as he did himself.

He cast one quick glance on the small street, seeing the thick layer of mud and snow that covered it, and his face darkened for a moment when it became clear to him that it would be even more impractical to simply take her on the ground.

She was shocked however when he carefully eased her legs off his hips and released the grasp of his arms, putting her back on the ground as gently as the circumstances allowed.

Mrs. Lovett was horrified, fearing that he wanted to stop now that their first attempt wasn't a direct success. She didn't care any longer that their first time wouldn't be as she had thought. It was not that she had dreamed of wine and satin and roses and violins, but it she hadn't exactly imagined a completely unsatisfying ending for both of them either.

She didn't care any longer however, just as long as there would happen _something_; she was desperate for anything that could do at least a bit about the throbbing and burning sensations that were about to consume her entire being.

As soon as she was safely standing however, Mr. Todd kissed her again, the movements of his mouth almost as fierce as they had been before. But he was driven now by pure lust instead of anger and the baker reacted in kind.

The difference in height was somewhat bothersome but now they could fully lean against the wall and each other in order to stay upright, which was easier than it had been when he had to keep both the baker and himself in a somewhat vertical position.

He kept some distance between their lower bodies and even though she was very eager to feel him press against her, she knew that he needed a moment to regain some control over himself.

What she hadn't expected however was the way that he would spend the time until that moment. He stepped closer to her; there was only the smallest amount of space between their bodies, she could almost feel his heartbeat and the heat that radiated off him, just like she could hear his still heavy breath.

He reached for her again, lifting the hem of her skirts up again. She didn't understand why he did so at first, seeing that the previous two times that they had attempted that approach hadn't been exactly successful.

As his hand brushed with care against her stocking clad knee, she knew very well however what he was intending to do. Eyes widening as she gasped with surprise and delight because of the touch, she readied herself for what he was going to do next.

He slid his hand a few inches upwards. His touch wasn't as violent as it had been before, but it lacked the most recent tenderness. The way he caressed her leg now was willing and eager, but it betrayed his still badly controlled want for her.

The thin fabric of her stockings separated his hand from her skin, but it might as well not have been there. Her leg seem to burn at every spot that he touched, the way he groped her flesh causing her to moan quietly.

Heat began to rise within her, much more intense than the hotness that had spread through her body when he had kissed her. It was accompanied by a throbbing deep within her, its epicenter located at the point where his hand was slowly heading for.

Although he wasn't kissing her, breathing was become more difficult than it had been before. His fingers continued their journey upwards and although their bodies weren't touching except for his hand, she felt as if he set her entire being on fire.

The moment that he somehow managed to sneak his fingers beneath the edge of her bloomers and caressed her bare skin, her legs weren't stable enough to carry her weight any longer. As her knees buckled, the barber's other arm guided her against him.

She was pulled against his chest and buried her face in the surprisingly soft material of his black coat, wrapping her arms around his torso to hold on to the barber, if only to make sure that he wouldn't let go off her.

He lifted his hand again and she knew exactly where to he was moving it. She shut her eyes tightly in anticipation, resting her head on his shoulder and arms locked around his upper body as a sob of want almost overtook her.

His breath was labored and the realization that he was influenced so much by touching her like this only made her more desperate to feel him caress the part of her body that needed his attention most.

His fingers brushed against the wet fabric of her underwear, the only part of her clothing that wasn't soaked because of the melting snow. She may have or she may have not actually bitten the barber's neck as her being was reduced to the core of her desire, the barber's hand stoking the fire within her to an almost unbearable level.

Somehow, their mouths met for another kiss. Mrs. Lovett had no idea why he was kissing her; the risk of her accidentally biting his tongue or lips was big indeed now that he was torturing her in such an exquisite way. But it was good to feel even more of him, to be completely reminded that it was indeed Sweeney Todd who was doing this. And, more practically, she didn't have to worry any longer about keeping quiet now that the barber was swallowing her cries of delight.

"_Eeeewwwww_."

For a hopeful second she thought it was just her imagination, but as the barber froze just after breaking away from her, there was no way to deny that she had actually heard it.

The baker's eyes burst open as she heard the familiar voice. She looked over the barber's shoulder, seeing Teddy near the entrance of the alley, at the point near the corner in it that obscured Fleet Street from view.

The girl was standing next to him. There was a look of complete shock and incomprehension on her face, the snowball that she had been holding falling from her hand with a soft thud, breaking into a hundred different parts to mix with the snow that was covering the tiny street.

Mr. Todd's heavy breath was hot against her neck as he buried his head in the crook of her shoulder, as if he could somehow transport them to a comfortable and especially private location that way.

His hand however was still pressed against the core of her desire and even as her nephew was looking at her with big and innocent eyes, the unreliable lower half of her body rubbed itself against his fingers, hoping to find some of the pressure she still craved so much without the two children being aware of it.

"You can't do that Mum," he said cheerfully, as if they were merely playing a game, completely oblivious to the fact that he had just interrupted the best moment of the life of the woman who looked after him as if he were her own son. "You always tell _me _that a man and a woman just can't go kissing like that!"

The baker blushed, her face turning almost just as red as her hair, but it had hardly anything to do with shame. The reason that her cheeks colored was the fact that she was still almost as aroused as she had been just before the two children had interrupted them and judging from the tension in the barber's body, his situation wasn't much different.

There was however of course nothing they could do about it as long as the boy and the girl were with them and they didn't look as if they were going to leave them alone soon. In fact, the expression on Teddy's boy suggested that he was going to keep a close eye on them, if only to protect his aunt's virtue.

She loved the boy with all her heart but at that moment she could really strangle him. The girl's body language suggested that she'd rather be anywhere else than with the two stirred up adults, but Teddy was completely unaware of the tension and frustration of the two.

He walked towards them and the baker was both relieved and frustrated to the extent that tears sprung to her eyes when Mr. Todd yanked his hand away before the two children could see where it had been exactly.

"You can't kiss strangers, Mum," he said, looking very serious although the tone of his voice was apologetic, as if he felt that he had interrupted something even though he had no idea what exactly. "That's what you always say yourself."

The baker was willing to sank down on her knees in front of the boy, telling him that Sweeney Todd wasn't a stranger, but a man who she had known – and loved – for more than thirty years. But that would involve having to tell him more about her life than he could possibly now - as far as he knew, she had always lived in Newcastle. Her accent was something he was too young to notice, even though he subconsciously mimicked it often.

But at least Teddy didn't recognize the barber as the man who had simply flung him out of his way not so long ago and the baker was grateful for this, for it made the situation at least a little bit less complicated. Throughout the years she had learned to appreciate the small victories, no matter how insignificant they seemed in the grand scheme of life.

"She's no stranger."

Three pair of bewildered eyes landed on the blond haired girl, of whom Mrs. Lovett had almost forgotten that she was actually there.

"She must be the Chair Lady."

"_What?_"

Mrs. Lovett didn't know who the girl was, but just the idea that she probably was the barber's daughter made the baker dislike her. The fact that she said such _strange _things didn't work in her favor either. And the way she shamelessly looked up and down her body, taking in her disheveled state that she was in, made the baker want to teach her some manners.

Before either of them could speak again however, Mr. Todd silenced both of them with a stern gaze. The girl was quiet immediately, but the baker was less impressed, knowing how those eyes had been dark with want for her mere seconds ago. In fact, they still were, but she chose to ignore it for the moment, just like she decided to be quiet just like the barber wanted her to, in spite of the odd thing that his girl had just said to her.

There was a moment of silence, one that was very awkward indeed. Mrs. Lovett looked at anyone and anything but Sweeney Todd, not wanting to see the look in his eyes. He was either completely embarrassed to be seen with her, not wanting to be associated with a woman who wasn't the mother of the girl let alone in such circumstances.

Or he was still as heated as she was and in that case it was even less appealing to see this, because then _she _would be the one embarrassing herself in front of a child who mattered very much to her. His intimate touch seemed to linger on her skin, tormenting her even though he was physically gone. She still ached for him and she feared that if there was only a small indication that he was willing to finish what he had started, she would find a way to make him give her what she almost felt that he owedher now.

"I think it's best if we all go home," Sweeney said, breaking the silence at length and interrupting the baker's heated thoughts.

The tremble in his voice certainly wasn't one of embarrassment and the baker shivered herself as she heard it. She was sobered however by the actual words he was saying, cheeks flushing for a completely different reason than before.

How could he even _suggest _her to go home, after all what just had happened between them – didn't it mean anything to him? Or better, how could he _pretend _that it hadn't mattered anything, if only for the sake of her girl, while she could feel his desire for her even as he stepped away from her? She thought that he had changed – even though there hadn't been any explicit suggestions of this, she had _felt _it whenever he touched her – but now it seemed that he was still the same man as he had always been. Or at least, in the sense that he didn't care for her the way she wanted him to, being loyal – at least emotionally – to a woman who wasn't her.

"I meant _my _home," he added, interpreting the look of anger and shock on the baker's face correctly. "All of us."

Teddy didn't seem to be thrilled by the prospect and the girl looked as if she was going to object. Mrs. Lovett herself was far from happy to hear this. She wanted to be alone with Mr. Todd and didn't want to be dragged to whatever hole he lived in nowadays, probably with the girl's mother. The baker didn't want to be humiliated by having to be in the same house as the blond haired woman of Sweeney's preference once again.

He discreetly wiped his fingers on the already ruined fabric of his expensively looking trousers. The baker couldn't help but shiver as she noticed it, remembering where those digits had been only moments ago. She also couldn't help but be angered by the gesture however, hating the ease with which he freed himself from the evidence of her arousal, the proof of what he had done to her – what _they _had done and would still be doing now if it hadn't for the badly timed appearance of the two children. For a moment, it seemed to her as if he was freeing himself from _her_, acting as if none of their heated kisses and frantic touches had taken place by a mere swipe of his hand.

The barber stepped further away from her, seemingly confirming her suspicion. But as he was standing on the other side of the alley, a relatively safe distance between him, he looked at her until she returned his gaze.

His eyes were almost mirrors of her own. Darker and larger than usual, and very dissatisfied with the current state of events. Embarrassment for _her _was not his problem.

She had no idea why that was, and what kind of trouble she would get into if she and Teddy would follow him. The plans she had carefully made for today briefly flashed her mind – how differently everything had gone as soon as she returned to Fleet Street.

Going with him was against everything she had believed in during the past years. And yet, it took her only a second to realize that it was the only thing she could do. If she wouldn't go with him now, she could be certain that she would regret it for the rest of her life.

"All right," she said, after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. "We will go with you."

The look of Teddy's face was one of discomfort and she didn't even want to look at the expression of the girl to gauge her reaction. Mr. Todd's face lit up however; it couldn't exactly been called a smile, but she could tell that she was very pleased with her reaction. In spite of herself, she was glad because of this.

He headed back to Fleet Street, leaving the alley behind. He took the girl's hand in his own, causing the baker's stomach to clench, and said something to her that Mrs. Lovett couldn't hear.

She had her own child to look after however. She walked to Teddy, who was still looking as if he couldn't believe what just had happened, and ruffled his hair.

"Don't worry," she said to him. "Mr. Todd is a good man. I've... known him since long before you were born. We can trust him."

She wasn't entirely sure of that last part – and some others – but she was comforting the boy almost just as much as she tried to convince herself.

"Let's go," she said to him, following Sweeney with the knowledge that Teddy would come after her – for better or worse, he always did.

Indeed, the boy ran behind her on his short legs until he had caught up with her, one hand sneaking in her own.

Just before they reached Fleet Street again, heading for an uncertain and unknown destination, Mrs. Lovett looked back at the alley.

There was one spot on the left wall that was devoid of snow, unlike the rest of the surface of the bricks, the ground beneath it being an equally dirty, snow molten mess. It was a silent reminder of what just had happened there, the only remaining witness. It would never speak of anything that had taken place there but, in a way, it would remember forever. Just like she would. It was a small relief to the baker; no matter what was going to happen next, the moment of passion that she had shared with the barber could never be taken away from her.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The baker followed the barber out of the alley, but before they entered Fleet Street again, Mr. Todd suddenly turned around. He grasped her arm and pulled her back to the darkness of the small street that they had almost left.

Mrs. Lovett was too dumbfounded to resist, wondering what was going on _this _time. Luckily Teddy had just thrown a snowball at the still reluctant girl, distracting both of them from the two adults. The two children returned to Fleet Street without realizing what was going on right between their backs.

"What?" the baker hissed as Sweeney held her back, getting more and more frustrated by the situation. And even though she was somewhat angry with him for turning her life completely upside down within a matter of mere minutes, she couldn't help but reminded fully of what had happened between them before the children had interrupted them when his hands were on her arms again.

"We're forgetting something," he said.

"And what is that?" she asked, having no idea what he was talking about. Thinking hadn't been exactly easy as long as they had been in the alley and wasn't any less difficult now, her body still throbbing with desire even as confusion and discomfort caused by the strange behavior of the barber and the girl overwhelmed the pleasure she had felt minutes ago.

He pointed at his own hair, and then at hers. Mrs. Lovett gasped as she realized that both of them had almost walked into Fleet Street without hiding their true identities.

The baker reached quickly for the shawl that had covered her hair earlier, only to come to the conclusion that it wasn't around her neck any longer. She vaguely recalled that Mr. Todd had torn it off earlier that afternoon, when he had recognized her as the woman who she truly was.

She panicked, knowing that she needed the fabric in order to get out of Fleet Street alive. The shawl wasn't in any of the places where she had had it before she returned to her former home and as she quickly inspected her pockets, it turned out not to be in them either. It seemed that she had lost the material, which was a problem because her life depended on it_, _not to mention that she didn't have any money to buy another one even if she could get out of Fleet Street unnoticed to do so.

"What is it?" the barber asked, seeing the expression on her face.

"I don't have it," she muttered, running a hand through her pockets once again. "I must've lost it."

The barber checked the pockets of his coat as well and to her surprise, he was holding the brown shawl in his hand a moment later.

"I'm sorry," he said, handing it to her. "I forgot I had it."

The baker was rather curious how the item had ended up in his possession and why he had taken it in the first place, but it wasn't the moment to ask.

As she attempted to cover her hair with the shawl again, Sweeney put up the collar of his coat and pulled its hood over his head, obscuring his hair and face from view. The baker's hands however were still trembling to such an extent that she couldn't attach the fabric properly around her face.

Before she knew it, Mr. Todd's hands were covering her own, gently taking the tricky fabric from her fingers to secure it himself. She looked up at him, holding her breath as he focused all his attention on her once again.

"Don't worry," he said again as he made sure that the shawl was in its right place, clearly sensing her distress.

He didn't tell her however about _what _she shouldn't worry about, and since there were quite some major problems that going with him could potentially cause, the baker didn't feel much better.

The barber remained standing in front of her, even as he had already adjusted the shawl more than seemed necessary to Mrs. Lovett. His presence made her mind swim with too many things at once. She could only stand still however, his eyes scanning her face as if he was looking for something deep within her.

There was a flutter of nervous excitement in the pit of her stomach; she had mostly forgotten what it was like exactly to be in the barber's proximity. The fact that he had just kissed her was something she would probably never get used to, let alone the look he was giving her at that very moment.

As he seemed to move even closer to her, Mrs. Lovett thought that he was going to kiss her again. Just before the last inches between them were closed however, the barber pulled back and turned around abruptly, walking away from her as if he hadn't been so close to her at all – as if he hadn't kissed her with obvious delight only moments ago in the first place.

The baker took a deep breath, forcing herself not to allow the barber to toy with her like this. She had had ten years to repeat her promise to herself that she wasn't ever going to allow Mr. Todd to treat her the way he had done. She didn't intend to break this vow, but Sweeney was making it very difficult for her already and it seemed like he wasn't even trying. He probably wasn't even aware of the way basically anything that he did created huge dilemmas for her.

Even now she wasn't sure whether she should follow him or not. The only thing that was certain to her however was that the decision that she would make now, would define the rest of her life.

There was much at stake and there wasn't any reason why she could trust the barber now, after all what he had done to her in the past. But in her heart it was clear to her that there was only one thing she could do, only one choice she could make. Whether it was right or wrong, she had always blindly followed the barber and she wasn't going to change it, not right after he had literally given her a taste of her dreams.

Only when she watched him walking away, heading back to Fleet Street as if nothing as strange and surprising had happened as what they just had shared, she became aware of the way that he moved. There was something odd about it, something very different.

She looked at him more closely, focusing on his legs instead of his face and hands. Only then she saw that he appeared to be limping slightly; there was something in his right leg that prevented him from using it properly. Whenever he took a step, his right leg didn't move as fluently as the left, but was dragged behind his body.

He still managed to walk at an almost normal speed; the change was a subtle one that she hadn't even noticed herself at first sight. It wasn't pleasant to see him like this however; there had obviously happened something very unfortunate to him.

She was very eager to find out what exactly it was that had taken place, but it was clearly not the moment to talk about it. She didn't even know when – if – there would come a moment that she would actually find out. The barber had never been very talkative since he had returned from his banishment and what she had seen of him so far, that hadn't changed much.

Other characteristics of him however had changed very much indeed, so there might be hope that there would come a moment that he would tell her a few of the things about himself that she was rather desperate to know. For now however there was nothing she could do, except for following him.

When the baker stepped out of the alley a moment later, stepping back into the crowd on Fleet Street while making sure that the shawl was properly covering all her characteristic curls, Mr. Todd just helped the girl into a carriage.

Mrs. Lovett forced herself not to be surprised by this. It only made sense that he lived so far away from Fleet Street that he needed a carriage in order to get there; what surprised her however was that he was apparently able to afford such a ride. Things like that had been a luxury for her, even when her meat pie emporium had been on the peak of its success.

Teddy was standing next to Mr. Todd, looking over his shoulder. The look in his eyes when his gaze met hers suggested that he felt that they shouldn't follow the barber, but that he was very excited to get inside the horse-drawn carriage at the same time. The baker felt a jolt of guilt when she realized that the boy had never been inside such a vehicle before, even though he adored everything that moved, especially when it had wheels. The young boy still had the age that he could be intrigued by relative simple things such as this.

The barber was looking at her as well, obviously wanting her permission before helping Teddy inside. The baker couldn't help but be pleased, remembering the countless occasions that Mr. Todd had done the most drastic things in her very own house without even bothering to ask her advice or permission.

She nodded to both the man and the boy, very much aware of the look of joy on their faces as she did so. If it hadn't been for the situation, she would've been amused by the way that both Teddy and Mr. Todd could look glad even though their faces were so completely different. It was of course rather surreal to see such an expression on the barber's face, but the same things that she had noticed a few times before were there again. The subtle quirk of his lips, the light that seemed to appear in his eyes for a moment... It was nothing compared to the big and enthusiastic grin on Teddy's face, his eyes sparkling as usual, but it was at least just as beautiful to the baker.

Mrs. Lovett herself was the last one to enter the carriage. To her surprise, Mr. Todd extended his hand to her, helping her inside. The shock of heat that went through her when their hands touched almost made her lose her balance. Judging from the way his fingers jerked against hers for a second, he had felt it too.

Reminded of their frantic moment of heat mere minutes ago, the baker pulled her hand back quickly, not wanting to think about _that _as she settled herself at the last part of the carriage that wasn't occupied yet.

When she sat down between Teddy and the right edge of the carriage, Mr. Todd told the driver their designation. She listened intently as he did so, but even though she clearly heard the street he mentioned, she didn't know where it was; she had never heard of it before.

The carriage wasn't big enough for four people, even though there were two children among them. Her dress was still wet and this didn't make things more comfortable. The way Sweeney was looking at her didn't make her feel at ease either; she didn't know why exactly, but there was something unsettling in his eyes. It was not something she had ever seen before; it lacked the anger and hate of the old days. But the intensity of whatever it was that she could read in his dark gaze was slightly terrifying.

When the carriage moved out of Fleet Street and the baker found herself pressed against Teddy, who was sitting on the small bench next to her, and being stared at by the blond girl who was sitting directly opposite her, Mrs. Lovett began to regret her decision.

She wanted to go with Sweeney Todd and this hadn't changed. The way that she was following him however began to scare her somewhat. The carriage was small and dark, making her feel as if she was locked up.

Teddy's presence had been a comfort to her at first; it was good to have someone with her who she could trust – someone of which she at least knew how he felt about her. Now that they were heading into an unknown direction however and she couldn't get out before Mr. Todd ordered the driver to stop the carriage, the baker felt trapped. She was also worried about the boy who she was supposed to take care of; she felt as if she was dragging him down with her now.

She had made her choice however and she couldn't undo it now. Her only possibility was just to wait and see what was going to happen next. Doing nothing but waiting however was rather unpleasant now that a feeling of impending doom arose inside of her and Mr. Todd's girl kept staring at her.

The barber removed the hood from his head and, sensing that it was safe enough to do so, the baker followed his example, relieved to create some extra space directly around her. The girl's staring however increased in intensity when the baker freed herself from the fabric.

The baker had no idea why the child was doing so. She looked back at the girl, who was oblivious of this. Only then Mrs. Lovett realized that she wasn't looking at her face; her gaze was focused on a point a bit lower than that.

Nellie presumed that the girl was absorbed by the clothing that covered the baker's body – or rather, the lack of it. Mrs. Lovett was suddenly awkwardly aware of the dress that wasn't only just a bit lower cut than was appropriate, but also was worn to such extent that some parts of it were almost becoming see-through, especially now that it was wet from the melting snow.

The baker's cheeks flushed even more as she realized that _that _part of her body was being scrutinized. It was something she was used to to some extent, but this was rather disturbing. Not only because of the child's age and gender, but because of the judgment in her eyes.

Mrs. Lovett groaned inwardly as she was reminded again of the fact that she had no idea who the girl actually was. She vaguely recalled that the barber had referred to her as Victoria and that he had mumbled something about her age during one of their first kisses, but this didn't put her at ease at all.

Now that they were sitting so close to each other, she could see however that Victoria didn't look as much as Johanna as she had thought at first. In fact, this girl looked quite different than what Mrs. Lovett remembered of Mr. and Mrs. barker's daughter.

They both had the same sad look in their eyes and both of them had blond hair, but that was basically where the similarities ended. Victoria's skin wasn't as sickly pale as Johanna's had been and the eyes of the girl that was sitting opposite her now were brown instead of blue. Her hair was also a darker shade of blond and she was obviously perfectly at ease in Mr. Todd's presence.

Forcing herself not to be intimidated by the child, even though she might be Mr. Todd's, Mrs. Lovett tore her gaze away from the girl and focused her attention on Teddy, looking at him from the corners of her eyes. Just like she had expected, he was looking at the streets of the City with wide eyes, face pressed against the window. It pleased her to see him like this, if only because it meant that she didn't have to divide a part of her attention to him for the first being. The boy was her main priority, but as long as she was this close to Mr. Todd, she had no idea what things she would or would not do.

Knowing that Teddy was safe for the moment – and actually was enjoying himself now – the baker's attention shifted to Mr. Todd himself. He appeared to be staring outside and Mrs. Lovett was grateful to have this opportunity to look at him. It was the first time that she actually had a change to properly watch the man who she still loved.

He hadn't changed much; that was the first thing she noticed. It was easy to see who he was and she understood now that he had hidden his face when they had met in Fleet Street earlier that day; he was still just as easy to recognize as she was. As she looked at him more intently, she became aware of some subtle changes.

His hair for example was somewhat longer than she remembered it and it was graying slightly, making the white streak in his hair, that was still unmistakably there, stand out less. Even though a decade had passed, the lines on his face seemed to be less deep than they had been before. If anything, he almost looked younger than he had done when she had last seen him. Whatever had happened to him during the past ten years, it had done him good.

The change that fascinated her most however, was his eyes. They were still just as dark as she remembered them, but the haunted and lost look that had always been present there since the day that he had returned to England, seemed to have faded so drastically that it appeared to be no longer present. His gaze had softened and although there was still a look in his eyes that was probably slightly terrifying to normal people, Mrs. Lovett couldn't help but decide that he looked very well indeed.

A small smile appeared on her lips. In spite of everything, she was glad to see him like this. He had proven that she had been right all this time in thinking that he didn't for always have to be the angry and tormented man that fate had made him.

The right corner of his lips moved upwards as well, clearly as a reaction to her. Horrified, Mrs. Lovett realized that he hadn't been looking outside at all; he had been looking at her reflection in the window all this time.

She quickly looked away, only to be greeted by Victoria's cold stare once again. Her reaction must've been visible on her face, for Mr. Todd turned his head to the girl as well, obviously aware now of the tension between the two.

There was a flash of something on his face when he saw the hostile stare of the girl, but it disappeared before the baker could interpret in. It was obvious to her however that the way he looked at the girl was terrifying indeed. Victoria became aware of it after a few seconds, turning her head away from the baker at last.

Any human being – even Mrs. Lovett herself – would be quite scared if anyone looked at them like that. The girl however simply raised an eyebrow, challenging the barber to correct her behavior.

Making sure that Teddy was still fully focused on the buildings and people outside, Mrs. Lovett looked at the man and the girl in front of her, waiting with a heavy heart for the drama to enfold.

Mr. Todd and Victoria looked at each other for a long time. Mrs. Lovett blinked several times, but neither of the other two did so, both of them determined to win the staring contest.

As the long seconds passed, the baker vaguely realized that the girl differed from Johanna in this aspect as well; Lucy's daughter had been afraid of her own shadow. Which was only logical after all what had happened to her; the baker didn't even want to consider how _she _would be after being raised up in the household of a man as evil as Judge Turpin.

After what seemed like several minutes, Victoria looked away at last. Mrs. Lovett was a relieved, hoping that she didn't have to endure the girl's disapproval for the remaining part of the journey.

The girl's eyes however locked with the baker's once again. Unable to believe that Victoria just ignored the implicit but very clear hint of the barber, the baker just stared back again, determined not to let her dominate her in any way.

She looked away however only a few seconds later as a movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. To her bewilderment, Mr. Todd appeared to be getting up even though the carriage was still driving at full speed.

"I'd like us to change seats," he said to Teddy.

The baker had no idea why Mr. Todd would want to move to another part of the carriage and neither did Teddy, if the look of incomprehension and distrust that he gave the barber was any indication.

"The view is better on this side," he said, surprising both the baker and the boy with the genuine gentleness of his voice.

"All right," the boy said, after casting a questing glance at his aunt.

What followed was a rather ungraceful moment in which the man and the boy switched places in the small and moving carriage. Mr. Todd bumped his head against the low ceiling and Teddy ended up in her lap twice, but they managed to do this.

The bench that she was sitting on had been small for two persons already when the young boy was sitting next to her. Now that the grown barber was at her side, it was really clear that the carriage wasn't big enough for this.

The pain of her right half of her body that was pressed against the side of the irregularly moving carriage now was however nothing compared to the feeling of the other half, which was pressed firmly against the barber's.

She still had no idea however why he insisted on sitting next to her; she highly doubted that he enjoyed the way their bodies were pressed together as much as she did.

The answer to her question provided itself quickly. In spite of the narrow space around them, Mr. Todd managed to shrug off the coat that he was wearing. She could take a proper look at it again; the fabric was even finer and more well made than she had initially thought. Even though the lowest part of it was wet because of the snow that it had come in contact with when he had sat down next to her on the stones of the alley, the shape of the coat was still unmistakable, which was completely unlike the sad excuse of a coat that the baker was still wearing herself.

The barber's hands were on her shoulders a moment later. The tingle that she had felt before whenever he touched her was there again, but it disappeared almost immediately when he removed his hands only after a second.

She had been distracted by his touch and only realized what he was doing when he helped her get her old and wet coat off. She had no idea why he did so, but she allowed him to do it anyway, for a reason that wasn't clear to her.

As soon as they had taken the coat off, he folded the clammy and thin fabric neatly and placed it on his knees. He then took his own coat and wrapped it around her shoulders, providing her both with some much needed warmth and a way to hide the majority of her body fully from Victoria's eyes.

Mrs. Lovett turned her head towards the man sitting next to her, smiling at him to express her gratitude even as she couldn't fully believe yet that Mr. Todd was apparently capable now of such chivalrous gestures, even to _her. _

The biggest surprise however was still to come. While he kept looking straight at the girl, the barber reached for her hand, which was resting on her knee. His fingers curled around hers, causing once again the strange jolt that she had felt earlier to. Her eyes snapped towards their now touching hands, unable to believe what was happening even as she saw it herself.

No matter how surprised she was, she wouldn't even think of preventing him from touching her like that. Not only because she had dreamed of a moment like this for so long, but because it actually felt completely right to be touched by him like this.

His fingers entwined with hers and before she knew it, the barber took her hand in his own. Although his eyes were focused on the girl, challenging her to say something about it as he made the bold statement, she could just sense that the rest of his being was directed completely towards her.

Mrs. Lovett swallowed as Mr. Todd squeezed her hand gently, having no idea why he was doing this. No matter how much she enjoyed the unexpected gesture, she couldn't help feeling even less at ease because of it. The situation was just too strange and bizarre, but for the time being there was nothing she could do about it.

Victoria's eyes widened as the barber took his former landlady's hand in his own. After a moment she shrugged however, moving her eyes away at last. The girl continued to look outside, to the buildings and streets that flew by around them, but Mrs. Lovett could tell that the girl wasn't really looking, that there was a sudden tension in her body.

The baker turned her face around, unable to look at both Mr. Todd and the mysterious girl any longer without tending to do something that she shouldn't. Instead, she focused on the buildings that could be seen outside. To her surprise, they were currently in the center of London. She didn't know why they were here, but she felt too tired and overwhelmed to really think about it.

In fact, her eyes closed on their own accord as the ride didn't seem to come to an end. The small space around her and the others wasn't exactly getting warm, but it seemed as if there wasn't enough air in the carriage for all of them. Mrs. Lovett at least had trouble breathing, but she presumed that there were a lot of other things that could've caused this.

She wished that the ride would come to an end, that she could distance herself for a moment from the barber and the strange girl, to recollect her thoughts and wit. She needed all the energy that she still possessed to stand her ground against Mr. Todd, who had just proven to have become even more unpredictable than he had always been.

The ride didn't come to an end however for quite some time. But the barber was holding her hand, actually caressing her skin with his thumb. Even as he was driving her temperature to a rather disturbing height with the touch that was welcome but unfamiliar to her, his hand was the anchor that kept her somewhat in place in a world that didn't seem to play by the rules that she had known all her life any longer.

After more than half an hour, the carriage stood still for the final time. The baker opened her eyes when it was clear to her that they had arrived at last.

"We're here," Sweeney said, but the baker was hardly aware of those words.

Even though she was rather sure that she had just opened her eyes, it seemed to her as if she had somehow ended up in an actual dream instead of the real world while doing so. They were in a neighborhood that was unlike any that she had ever seen before.

The houses were large and beautiful without being overwhelming, solely build to impress and intimidate. The street was broad and clean, marked by trees on both sides of it. In fact, the baker could see a small park that lay just beyond the part of the road where the carriage had stopped.

The baker was unaware that she was gawking at her current surroundings, not realizing that all others had gotten out, until Mr. Todd cleared his throat.

She turned her face towards him, cheeks coloring slightly because it was obvious to both of them that she was completely caught off guard by the area where he appeared to live now.

"You didn't expect that, did you?"

There was no anger in his word, not even sarcasm. He was just asking a question, in a way she had thought he was no longer capable of.

"I did not expect this," she simply replied, casting a first glance on the house that the carriage had stopped in front of and of which the front door was currently opened by Victoria.

The house was just as big as the other houses Mrs. Lovett had seen already, and it even had a small garden in front of it. There were two floors above the ground level, the second one being part of the roof just like the barber's room in Fleet Street had been. That was however probably the only similarity between this house and the building that Mrs. Lovett had owned in the more southern part of London.

The walls were made out of regularly shaped stones that looked neither old nor new and the window frames were covered in fresh looking paint, which was dark but not in a depressing way. Although she had never been there and had no idea who would inhabit the large house except from the barber and – apparently – the girl, Mrs. Lovett felt at ease there almost immediately.

"Welcome home," Sweeney said, and although she had no idea what the word 'home' suggested, she loved the sound of it.

He extended his hand to her as she got out of the carriage, making it easier for her to descend the two small steps that crossed the distance to the cobblestones that were two yards beneath the carriage.

She took his hand as she stepped out. She almost felt like a princess visiting a ball at a palace or something as wonderful as that. But the baker knew very well that Mr. Todd wasn't a prince and that she certainly was not a princess. She couldn't allow herself such fantasies, but it was hard not to surrender herself to such thoughts for only the shortest of moments.

"This is the biggest house I've _ever _seen," Teddy said with enthusiasm, quite a bit too loud for the baker's taste. "It's so much bigger than where we live!"

Mrs. Lovett blushed – purely because of shame this time. Sweeney Todd didn't have to know in which circumstances she lived, especially not now that he turned out to have such a house himself, indicating that his life had taken a big turn for the better after they had separated ways.

Mr. Todd just shrugged, as if the house wasn't important at all. The baker knew that he only did so to make her feel better, but the fact that he did so in the first place meant a lot to her indeed. It was certainly enough for her to calm a little and not to be bothered by Teddy's painful honesty. This was hardly the worst thing he had ever said, but things always seemed a lot more extreme when Mr. Todd was involved. It was another thing that didn't seem to have changed.

She was somewhat aware of the barber as he paid the driver of the carriage, the amount of pounds that he paid the man being more money than she had had for a long time. She was distracted by Teddy however, who was looking at the building with huge eyes. He clearly wasn't sure whether he should be impressed by the house or suspicious of the man who owned it.

"Come in," he said, moving his hand to the small of her back, guiding her towards the open front door.

There was no way for her to do anything else than just that. When Teddy saw that she was going inside, he entered the house as well, following Victoria. Judging from the look on the blond haired girl's face, she wasn't sure whether to be amused by the boys awe for her home or shocked by the fact that Mr. Todd was guiding the baker into it.

Mrs. Lovett however wasn't aware of this. She tried to focus on anything but the question who else she was going to find in the house; she couldn't imagine that the barber lived there alone with the girl. The house was much too big for that and she actually couldn't imagine Mr. Todd looking after someone by himself, let alone a girl who looked as dependent as Victoria did.

There was no sign of a tonsorial parlor and this surprised her. It was obvious now than Mr. Todd's life was quite different than what she had imagined throughout the years, but she couldn't really presume that he had quit his old profession. She doubted that he only still wore the holster with the razor on his side to remind him of days long gone.

When they walked through the garden, the baker became aware of a pleasant smell that lingered there in the air. She looked down and spotted dozens of plants in the soil that surrounded the path to the front door on both sides. They were mostly covered with snow, only their tops reaching above the white surface, but they still managed to bring an early sense of spring to the area.

"Victoria likes them," Sweeney said, noticing her surprised glance. "And so do I."

The baker almost rolled her eyes. The thought that the barber actually liked the flowers that were growing in front of his house seemed too ridiculous to be true. He had detested anything that grew – or actually, anything that _lived –_ when they had lived together in London. But, Mrs. Lovett had to admit, recalling their kisses earlier that day, stranger things had changed about him. The barber liking flowers wasn't as seemingly unlikely after all now that he appeared to like _her_ as well.

"Come in," he said, "it's warmer and more comfortable inside."

She followed him, noticing his slight limp again, knowing that he was right. Even though she had no idea who she might find inside of it, the house seemed to be drawing her in, as if it was calling her to come home even though she had never been there before. When the carriage drove off and Mr. Todd closed the door behind them, the baker didn't feel as captured at all as she had feared initially.

This feeling didn't last very long however. Just when they entered the hall and Mr. Todd took the coat off her shoulders that he had given her earlier, there appeared someone on the chairs that lead to the first floor.

The baker held her breath as the person stepped into the baker's view step by step. The feet appeared first; they were too big to belong to either of the two children, who had disappeared into their house already, leaving their shoes and coats in the hall.

What followed next was a skirt. The baker's heart was pounding as she saw it; just like she had feared, there was indeed a woman in the house. She wouldn't be surprised if this turned out to be Victoria's mother. That would make the situation truly difficult and painful indeed.

She was only vaguely aware that Mr. Todd came to stand right behind her, placing two supporting hands on her waist. She had never thought that the barber would ever touch her like _that, _but she couldn't enjoy it now that the person who could potentially ruin all of this was heading towards them.

It took the other woman only a few seconds to reach the hallway, but it seemed to Mrs. Lovett like she watched her coming into her view for at least several slow minutes. There was a moment of deep silence when the two women looked each other in the eye for the first time and Mrs. Lovett was desperately trying to find out who on earth the other woman was.

"Mrs. Clint, we have two guests," Sweeney said, breaking the silence.

The other woman simply nodded as she took in the baker with a look that wasn't as hostile or judgmental that Mrs. Lovett had feared it to be.

"Will they be staying for dinner, sir?" she asked the barber.

"Yes, they will. And please be so kind to prepare another bedroom."

"Just one, sir?"

"Two," the barber said quickly. "I meant two."

The baker watched the exchange with increasing surprise. She had no idea what kind of plans Mr. Todd had for her and Teddy – when it came to his actual plans, he seemed to be still just as talkative as he had been ten years ago.

The words 'dinner' and 'bedroom' – especially the quantity of those – echoed in her head. There were a lot of questions she wanted to ask the barber – questions that were only inspired by the short conversation that he just had had with the other woman. There was only one question that she could voice at that particular moment.

"You've got a _housekeeper_?" she hissed, not sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry with relief now that it was clear to her that he wasn't romantically involved with the woman who appeared to be already living in Mr. Todd's ridiculously large house.

"I do," he said. He had the nerve to sound amused, something of which she was again not sure what to think of it. "Can you imagine me shopping at the market or doing the laundry? Taking care of this house?"

"I suppose not," the baker replied, doing her best to suppress herself from giving a more colored answer. This was the man after all who she had looked after for months during which he had been seemingly incapable of performing even the smallest and easiest domestic task.

"Mrs. Lovett," he said, the tone of his voice sobering her. "I would like to talk to you. Alone."

"All right," she said, trying to sound not as eager as she felt. This was rather difficult however, seeing that a moment to talk to him in private was something she looked forward to almost as much as finishing what they had started in the alley right next to their former home.

In fact, talking seemed even more tempting now than that. Due to her wet clothing and the long drive away from the alley, the heat that had burned her earlier had basically disappeared. She also felt that she couldn't fully enjoy the barber's touch before she knew what had happened to him, what had caused his feelings for her to change in such an extreme way.

"You have to change first," he said, gesturing at her dress, a drop of molten snow falling on the impeccable floor of the barber's hallway at that very moment.

"All right," she said, realizing that an explanation could wait a few more minutes if she could get dry clothes in exchange. "What can I wear? Does your housekeeper have any spare clothes?"

She was now more than ever aware of the fact that the only dress she still possessed was the one she was currently wearing already.

"She does," Sweeney replied, "but you will find that there'll be some pieces of clothing here that are more... suitable."

She had absolutely no idea what he meant to say with that, but she knew better than to ask.

"First door on the left," he said, gesturing at the flight of stairs that Mrs. Clint had just descended from. "I'll wait for you in the parlor."

He pointed at the large room that lay directly beyond the hallway and gave her a small key, of which she presumed that she needed it to open the room that he had mentioned. There was a thin cord attached to the key, which seemed to be feeling warmer than it should be, seeing the material it was made of.

No matter how odd she found this, she simply nodded to him and headed upstairs. Finding the room that he had mentioned to her was the best and easiest way to find out what he had been talking about.

The room was easy to find and the key that he had given her fitted perfectly. The lock was undone easily, its mechanism solid but smooth, suggesting that it was both well kept and often used.

The baker pushed the door open, finding a small room which was located on the front of the house. The window let in a generous amount of daylight and offered a nice view on the park on the other side of the street, that she had noticed when she had still been in the carriage. The room was prettier than any part of a house she had ever seen, let alone the one she had lived in herself for the past few years – the one that she had so recently lost.

It wasn't the room itself however that caught her attention, but the items that it contained. Her mouth literally fell open when she spotted the things that someone – Mr. Todd – had stored there.

The items varied greatly in their nature and purpose. There were pictures, plates, vases, knick-knacks, cutlery, sheet music of songs she had forgotten... and dresses. And so much more than that; every inch of space on the shelves that were put against the walls was filled with countless different things.

They all had however one thing in common: she had owned them once and she had been sure that she had lost them when she had fled London ten years ago.

Her legs were weaker now than they had ever been that day. She had been convinced that there could be nothing stranger than kissing Sweeney Todd, and being kissed by him in return. Now that she had found that he had an entire room filled with her former possessions, a room that basically seemed to be dedicated to _her_, it seemed to her whether the world – or more likely, she herself – had actually gone mad.

All thoughts of changing clothes forgotten, she sank down on her knees in the middle of the room, wondering whether she still lived the same life as she had done that morning, when she had boarded the train back to London.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Several moments passed as the baker tried to make sense of what she was seeing all around her, to find an answer to the question why on earth Sweeney had collected so many of her former possessions. She knew that the man was obsessive – but that was when his wife was concerned. Mrs. Lovett knew better than to think that she meant to him only a little of what Lucy had been to him.

But as she looked around the room, she had to admit to herself that she couldn't be certain of this any longer. In fact, it seemed very unlikely. Those items were arranged with great care, not to mention the fact that Mr. Todd had risked his own life by returning to Fleet Street and getting all of this out of the house that was under such close scrutiny of both the inhabitants of Fleet Street and the police after the crimes that had been committed there had been discovered at last.

Unable to do anything else, Mrs. Lovett sat down against the door that she had just entered through, forcing herself to breathe in and out calmly. She wouldn't find out on her own why Mr. Todd had done this; she would have to ask him later – if she had the courage to do so. But either way, breaking her brains over it now was useless. There was no way for her to find out on her own what had brought the barber to do all of this.

As she was sitting on the ground, not having to rely on her treacherous legs any longer and breathing in the air of the strange and somewhat terrifying room, the baker felt strangely at ease. The air smelled quite a lot like what she remembered from the house where he had taken the items from. If anything, Mr. Todd's home smelled of hers, and it was oddly comforting. In a way, she was much closer to her home in Fleet Street now than when she had been when she had been standing right in front of it – or was pressed firmly against one of its walls.

When he sat on the floor and looked around, her stomach growled with hunger. The baker groaned, wondering why her body decided that this was a good moment to remind her of one of her worst problems. It was probably because Mr. Todd's housekeeper had mentioned dinner only minutes ago. Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes when she found herself thinking that she shouldn't confront Mr. Todd too intensely about what she had seen in this room; she would miss a probably very decent meal if he threw her out before dinner time. The same would doubtlessly go for Teddy, who needed to eat even more than she did.

She sighed, forcing herself not to think of food. It was true that she had known more hunger during the past few months than she had done ever before. She had been poor during other stages of her life, of course. Especially the time just before Mr. Todd's return had been a bad one. But never before she had been responsible for a growing child, who needed twice as much bread, meat and vegetables as she did herself.

"Shut it," she mumbled to herself. She couldn't worry about this just now. If she was lucky, dinner in the barber's house could make up for the food that she hadn't had and wouldn't have because she was sitting in Sweeney Todd's house instead of looking for work.

She actually couldn't wait for dinner to start, but she knew that she had to wait for a few more hours. She just hoped that she could wait that long and that she wouldn't embarrass herself during that time. She didn't want the barber to know how long ago it had been that she had had a proper meal. She wasn't even sure whether she could remember this occasion. It had probably been when her sister was still alive, even though those days hadn't exactly been defined by plentiful money and food either.

The baker forced herself to stand up. No matter how confusing the situation was, she had to find a way to make this work. The need for food was after all, no matter how pressing it was, nothing compared to her longing for the barber who had been so generous to take her here in the first place.

She was actually shivering now with cold, the clammy fabric of her ruined dress taking all the warmth away that her thin body could still produce on its own. She headed for the closet that contained the dresses she had seen earlier. It was both a shock and a delight to see that every single dress that she had left behind when she had run from Fleet Street were there.

She moved her hand of the dresses, fingers caressing the expensive fabric. She didn't know who the dresses technically belonged to, but she certainly didn't feel like they were hers. Touching dresses like those, let alone wearing them, just seemed wrong now that she had brought both her nephew and herself to the brink of starvation.

The baker looked at dress after dress, but none of them was like anything that she was willing to change the one for that she was currently wearing. The last one that she found however was perfect. It was the one she had worn when Mr. Todd had returned to Fleet Street ten years ago. She had refused to wear it as soon as she was able to afford better ones, but now it was in her eyes the only appropriate dress to chose.

Shutting the curtains – probably the only fabric in the room that hadn't belonged to her at one point in her life – to make sure that no one outside could see her, the baker began undoing the strings of the dress she was currently wearing, eager to free herself from it.

Only when she was struggling with the knots that kept her dress around her, she saw the mirror that was standing right next to the door. It was the one that used to be in her bedroom. It wasn't very big, but she still had no idea how Sweeney had managed to get it to this part of London. She was grateful that the mirror was there however; it was a lot easier to undo the strings on her back when she could actually see them.

As soon as the clammy fabric pooled around her feet, her reflection in the glass made clear to her that she wasn't done yet. Although they hadn't been influenced by the snow, her corset and stockings weren't in a good shape either. The corset had never comfortable – as far as such things ever were in the first place – and there were holes in her stockings. She was rather sure that Mr. Todd had created at least some of them, but she didn't want to be wearing such worn items in his presence either way.

She opened the drawers that were also part of the closet that the barber kept her dresses in. Just like she had thought – and feared – he had taken all of her clothing from her bedroom, not just the dresses. Again, he appeared to have done a very proper job. Even all the bloomers she remembered owning where there – she didn't even want to think about the reason that had brought Mr. Todd to take them here.

The baker wasn't sure whether this had been his intention when he had told her to change, but she decided to take this chance now that she got it. Without hesitation, she began untying her corset as well, continuing to take off her shoes, socks and stockings as soon as the restricting fabric of the corset was shed.

She was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable as she reminded herself that she was in Mr. Todd's house at that moment and that there were two children running around somewhere. The door however could also be locked from the inside and this was exactly what she did.

She returned to the mirror a moment later, feeling more at ease. The sight that greeted her however didn't please her. Her body exposed entirely except for the bloomers she was still wearing, she couldn't help but notice how bad she looked. She was thinner than she had ever been, her skin too pale and the area around her eyes too dark. As if that wasn't unpleasant enough yet, there were bruises and marks at almost every spot that Mr. Todd had touched earlier that day.

The baker refused to allow herself to think about it too much. Interacting with Mr. Todd was going to be difficult enough even if she wouldn't be doubting what he saw in her to begin with.

From the drawer that she had discovered earlier, she chose the clothing that she wanted to change. After a short moment of uncertainty, she also grabbed another pair of bloomers. The old one had been in need for a wash even before it had absorbed the evidence of how much Mr. Todd had aroused her exactly.

She put on the new – relatively new, at least - clothing quickly. The fabric was familiar and it was a delight to be wearing the old material again. Everything was a bit too large, even though she had bought all of it in the old days, when money hadn't been plentiful either, but it still fitted rather well.

When she was done, she left her old clothing in a relatively empty corner for the time being and exited the room immediately, refusing to look in the mirror again. She would probably never dare going back downstairs if she would. So she simply locked the door behind her again, just in case, and went to the room that Mr. Todd had pointed to earlier.

Arriving there, she found it empty, even though the barber had said that he would be waiting for her there. Mrs. Lovett didn't really mind however; she could use a few moments to compose herself in a room that wasn't as strange as the one that she had just left. And when she walked around the parlor, she realized that this was a golden opportunity to take a good look at the place where the barber was living now.

Even though he had turned out to be very different from the distanced and cold man he had been when they had worked together in London, she was still surprised that the parlor of his house was so... pleasant. The baker had a good eye for rooms and their decorations and she could easily tell that this parlor was a nice one indeed.

A lot of daylight was streaming into the room thanks to the large windows, that looked out on both the street and the garden that turned out to be behind the house. It was completely unlike the darkness of the room where Mr. Todd used to live in her house in Fleet Street; in fact, it was a lot better than the parlor she had had there herself. Not just because it was so much larger, but because there was something about it that made her feel very welcome.

There was a fire burning in the huge hearth and there were various paintings on the walls. Mrs. Lovett studied them with interest; Mr. Todd wasn't the kind of man who she expected to put art in his house. The painted landscapes that she saw however were beautiful, even though they were completely unlike the kind of things she thought that the barber liked. She reminded herself again that this wasn't really the man who she had escaped from a decade ago and that she had to stop presuming that he was.

There were a series of paintings in one of the corners of the parlor that were very different from the ones she had seen before. Those were obviously made by a less experienced painter, a child by the looks of it. She presumed that those were made by Victoria. In spite of herself, the baker couldn't suppress the feeling of jealousy that arose within her when she saw this, wishing that she herself had been the one who had made her way into Mr. Todd's household with such apparent ease.

The items that captured her attention next were two frames, standing on a low table next to a comfortable looking chair, leaning against an elegant clock. They looked just as stylish as anything else that she had seen in the parlor so far. The baker was completely surprised however when she looked at the pictures that the frames contained.

She recognized the two women on them immediately. The picture in the left frame was one of Lucy Barker. She recognized it as one of the pictures he had found in his old home when he had returned to London. When she had gone to his room ten years ago, she had often found him staring at this very picture with a distant look in his eyes, suggesting that he was lost in a world where his Lucy was still alive – or at least, still was the woman who she had been when the barber had been banished.

It was no surprise at all to find a picture of the woman he had loved – and doubtlessly still loved – in his parlor. The picture that was right next to it however was. Mrs. Lovett blinked several times, but the image in front of her didn't change. The room that she had found upstairs already suggested that Mr. Todd had developed some sort of strange fascination about her – and still, it came as a shock to find a picture of herself in his parlor, right next to the one of the woman who he had loved so much that he had survived fifteen years under the most difficult circumstances to find his way back to her – and had done the most horrible things imaginable in order to vengeance her when he had learned what had happened to his family. Or at least, the version that she had told him. Lucy had of course eventually died by the hands of her own husband, which wouldn't have happened if the baker had told Sweeney the truth about her. He had almost murdered _her _when he had found out at last that she had lied to take Lucy Barker's place in his life. Which made it even more unexpected to find a picture of herself in his parlor. It made it seem as if she actually _had _taken Lucy's place.

The frames that surrounded the two pictures were identical, just like the the quality of the images. For the first time in her life, the baker felt equal to the woman that the barber had preferred. The picture of her was taken many years ago, before the barber was banished. It had been standing on the piano in her parlor all this time; she wasn't very fond of the photograph, but her late husband was. Even when he had died, she had never removed it; the picture had been standing there for so long, that she hadn't been aware of it any longer.

It was a shock indeed to find it here now, but it was nothing compared to the surprise that still was awaiting her. When she turned around to continue her exploration of Mr. Todd's parlor in his absence, her eyes fell on an arm chair that was very familiar to her.

She blinked again, this time truly unable to believe what she was seeing with her own eyes. But once again the view didn't change when she was questioning her powers of observation. In the corner of the parlor was one of her old chairs – the one she was most fond of, because it was the most comfortable one she had ever owned. It was the very same chair that she had thought of earlier that day, when Mr. Todd had pressed her against the wall that used to be mere inches away from the chair that she was currently looking at.

Mrs. Lovett was reminded of what Victoria had said to her earlier. The girl had called her the 'chair lady'; although the baker still had no idea how Mr. Todd had been able, let alone been _willing_, to take this piece of furniture to his beautiful new home, she understood now at least why Victoria had referred to her with those words. The girl had somehow known that there was a woman who held a special place in Mr. Todd's heart and had assumed that the auburn haired baker was this woman when Victoria had found her kissing Mr. Todd.

"I see you've found your chair."

Mrs. Lovett turned around swiftly as she heard the barber's voice, having been too lost in her thoughts to be aware of his arrival.

"I... I did," she mumbled, inwardly sighing because her attempt to collect herself in the parlor had had quite the opposite effect. If anything, she was more confused now than when she had left the rather disturbing room upstairs.

Mr. Todd gasped when she turned around to face him, eyes widening when he took a proper look at her.

"That dress..." he said, "it's the one that..."

"The one that I was wearing when you walked into my shop ten years ago," she said, recalling that day vividly even though a lot of time had passed since then. "I didn't know you remembered that."

"I didn't," he replied. "I hadn't recognized it before. Only now that you're wearing it..."

The look in his eyes made the baker blush. He looked at her in a way that no one had ever done before, with an intensity that she could almost feel physically. There was an expression of admiration on his face. It was hard to believe that she actually was the one who caused it.

"You hardly changed since that day," he said, stepping closer to her.

The baker wanted to correct him, recalling the shock she had felt when she had just taken a good look at herself in the mirror. But if Sweeney Todd was thinking that she didn't looked much worse than she had during that day, she wasn't the one to take that illusion away from him.

"That chair has been empty since the day I put it there," he continued somewhat hesitantly, referring to the piece of furniture that she had been looking at, sensing her discomfort at his compliment. "It has been standing here for years, waiting for you. Just like I did. I kept telling myself that it was useless, that you wouldn't never sit on it again... but I kept hoping. And here you are."

He walked backwards, heading for the chair without taking his eyes off her. When his legs touched the slightly worn leather of the large chair, he sat down, settling himself in one corner.

"Come," he said, extending his hand to her. "Sit with me."

She approached him; there was nothing she'd rather do than settle in her favorite chair together with the barber. But there was something that was stopping her, a part of her that was desperate for answers and didn't want to believe any of this before she had found a logical explanation for his completely changed attitude towards her.

"I will explain," he said, reaching for her.

Although trusting him had almost lead to her dead once and there was no proof that this situation would be otherwise, Mrs. Lovett couldn't help but obey him.

There was quite some space of the seat left between his body and the opposite arm rest, and this is were she sat down herself. It was a delight to sit so close to him, but it turned out to get even better when he patted on the arm rest that was on his side of the couch. Feeling deliciously inappropriate while doing so, she swung her legs over the barber's, letting them dangle off the side of the chair. She was then basically sitting on and against him, the feeling of his body against her own more pleasant than the comfortable chair itself had ever been.

Only then she noticed that he was carrying something with him. He was holding a small sort of bottle, of which he unscrewed the lid once she was sitting still. The baker backed a little away from him intuitively, at least a part of her body still aware of what this man could do to her.

"It's for your wounds," he said, handing the little item to her as he nodded to the skin that his teeth had assaulted earlier that day. "It'll heal quicker if you use that."

She took it from him, surprised that he had thought of this. Even she had forgotten about it, but that wasn't so strange seeing the circumstances. This made it even more remarkable however of course that the barber had reminded it.

She held the little bottle upside down, letting some of the liquid in it drop on her fingertip. When she was about to move her hand to the injured skin to apply the cream, she realized that she couldn't see where the actual wounds were.

They looked at each other and after a short moment of hesitation, there appeared once again that amused expression on his face, which was so odd because it was so completely unfamiliar to her, and beautiful at the same time.

He took the bottle again, moving his index finger against her own to collect the cream that she had already taken. The jolt that she had felt earlier whenever they touched was there again, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of nervous excitement that she experienced when the barber's gaze moved down from her own eyes to the skin that was visible above the edge of the low cut dress she had changed into.

"Are you sure?"

She could only nod. It was by for more practical to allow him to do this, and in spite of the way he had abused her trust in the past, she couldn't help but still wanting to be touched by him.

The baker shivered when his fingers brushed against her skin for the first time. He was only touching her neck now, where he had begun his assault, but the movements of his hands were so gentle and tender that she found herself imagining that he was doing quite something different than applying the cream.

"Are you alright?" he asked, sensing the way her body trembled but unaware of the true cause of it.

"I'm fine," she muttered, opening her eyes of which she hadn't realized that she'd closed them.

"It might tingle a bit," Sweeney said as he moved to her skin again. "But that means it's working."

She hadn't been aware of it before, probably because there was a tingling sensation of a quite different nature that she was also experiencing. But now that the barber mentioned it, she felt indeed how the wound reacted to the cream. The feeling was strange but not necessarily unpleasant. The same went for the slightly flowery smell of whatever it was exactly that he was using, and the baker simply surrendered to it.

He continued, his fingers moving lower with each mark that he treated. The baker tilted her head back, granting him all the access to the vulnerable skin that he needed. She was vaguely aware of the promise she had made to herself mere hours ago, when she had been standing in front of the building where Mr. Todd had tried to kill her ten years ago, that she could never trust this man again.

And yet, she found herself surrendering to him completely, enjoying his touch. Whenever she opened her eyes to look at the barber, she could see that the same went for him. Although she still had no idea why this was possible, even after he had just told her that he would explain to her what had happened to him and thus what had caused his extreme change of his opinion regarding her, seeing how much he apparently liked to touch her now, made the moment even more pleasant to her.

Her skin was literally tingling because of the cream and the added sensations of Mr. Todd's touch made her head swim. The world was once again reduced to her and him alone; as she forgot about all the bizarre things that had happened that day, it only seemed to make sense that the barber seemed to be sharing her affectionate feelings.

When his fingers brushed against the lowest bit of skin, which was just above the edge of her dress, she had to prevent herself from vocalizing how much she enjoyed his touch exactly. A part of her still realized that she had to be careful; allowing the barber to know that she was experiencing this as so much more than a medical procedure, probably wouldn't do her any good.

He didn't make it easy for her however. There wasn't much left of the efficient carefulness with which he had touched her earlier. If she didn't know any better, she'd swear that he was actually caressing her now, long fingers brushing against the pale skin that he hadn't injured.

She sighed happily, becoming less and less aware of the character of the man who was touching her when his hands helped her relax in a way she hadn't done for a long time. Losing awareness of everything except for the parts of her body that were caressed by the barber, Mrs. Lovett slumped against his chest.

He wrapped the arm that wasn't touching her yet around her, pulling her closer to him. She was very vaguely aware that he buried his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply as if he somehow had to ensure himself that way that she was actually there. The baker was somewhat embarrassed because of this, knowing that she hadn't been able to was her hair properly for a very long time.

The barber didn't seem to be bothered by this at all and she couldn't care much either, the harshness of her usual daily life forgotten as she the dream she cherished most was continuing even now that she was awake.

Mr. Todd withdrew the hand that had been applying the cream. The baker was disappointed because of this for a moment, but he wrapped the arm around her as well as soon as it was free.

Although he still hadn't said any word that explained to her how it was possible that he was behaving like this, Mrs. Lovett allowed him to pull her against him, knowing that there was nowhere she'd rather be than in his arms.

As she snuggled against him, Sweeney rested his head against hers. The baker let out a deep sigh, being rather sure that there had never been a moment in her life that had been as pleasant as this one. Even as time passed and the barber didn't appear to be about to tell her what had happened to him to make him act like this, she focused with all her attention on the moment they were sharing now, refusing to speculate on the reasons for it.

After a few minutes of quietness had passed, the barber's hands began to move a little, stroking her with care but with some hesitation as well, as if he wasn't entirely sure whether he should do so. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of his hands on her hips and lower back. For a moment she was very happy just to sit like that, enjoying his gentle presence. Clearly encouraged by her reaction, he continued the movements, his quiet sigh telling her that he liked to be with her like that just as much as she appreciated him.

She rested her head on his shoulder, allowing herself to believe temporarily that it was only normal to be with him like this, to forget about all the years of desperate longing that had passed before this moment. Mr. Todd tangled one of his hands in her hair, keeping her face pressed gently against his shoulder, and the other went around her waist, basically capturing her body against his own. She'd almost think that he was afraid that she'd leave him for some reason, but the thought was a ridiculous one to her; she would never leave him if the choice was hers to make, but most of all it seemed such a strange idea that Mr. Todd wanted her to stay with him in the first place.

His hands caressed the entire surface of her back, fingers lingering on the exposed skin of her shoulders and the sensitive area of her lower back. It was almost as if he was reminding both her and himself that this was real, touching her to make sure that she wasn't a mere ghost or illusion.

When there was a knock on the door, he held on to her, not even letting her go when Mrs. Clint entered the parlor, carrying a tray with two cups of tea on it. The baker herself felt actually rather embarrassed, not being used to be held with such affection – let alone when others were watching. But at the same time it was miraculous indeed that the barber was willing to hold her like this, even though the housekeeper who he seemed to be quite fond of could see them.

The older woman didn't visibly react to the embracing baker and barber, although Mrs. Lovett presumed that they had to be a rather surprising sight. Mrs. Clint simply placed the two cups of tea in front of them and left as quietly as she had arrived.

"I had asked her to make you a cup of tea as well," Sweeney said as soon as the housekeeper had left. "You used to drink a lot of tea and I presume that this hasn't changed."

The baker didn't know immediately what to reply to this. It was quite a surprise to hear that the barber was actually aware of the fact that she liked tea so much. When she could afford it again when her business had improved so drastically, she drank it whenever she could, a steaming cup always standing within reach whenever she had a quiet moment for herself to simply read or daydream.

No matter how fond she was of the deliciously smelling and tasting liquid, it wasn't something she had been able to afford when she had fled from London. She didn't want Mr. Todd to be aware of this, just like she wanted to prevent him from noticing in what a poor state the clothing that she had been wearing until very recently actually was. The more she became aware of the luxury he was living in now, the more ashamed she was of her own circumstances.

"Thank you," she managed to say at length.

Exchanging pleasantries with the barber this way was another thing that would probably be quite difficult to get used to – but she was more than eager to learn.

The smell of apple and something that seemed quite exotic to her reached her nostrils. She inhaled deeply, the unknown and tempting smell intriguing her. She leaned back against Sweeney, knowing that the tea was too hot to drink for the time being as she saw the steam that was still coming off it. Only now that she saw the cups of tea, she realized just how much exactly she had missed such things.

It was nothing compared however to the feeling of the barber as he tightened his embrace, his lips brushing against her forehead. The sensations that he only could cause overpowered her again, even as he did nothing more than that. Because of this it took her quite a while to realize that she wasn't here all alone, that there had been someone with her when she had arrived at the barber's home.

"What about Teddy?" she asked, guilt welling up inside of her as she realized that she hadn't seen the boy since they had entered the house. She had always told herself that he needed good care much more than she did herself and the thought that she had basically forgotten about him as soon as she was inside Mr. Todd's house was a painful one.

"Mrs. Clint is looking after him and Victoria for the time being," Sweeney said, caressing her hair in a soothing gesture. "He'll be all right. I suppose they're eating all the cookies now that she baked this morning."

Her stomach grumbled as she heard the word 'cookies'. She found herself craving some – or rather, a lot - of them as well. Anything edible would indeed be very welcome, but she forced herself again not to think of it, hoping that Mr. Todd wouldn't find out that way how unfortunate her situation was. Instead, she reminded herself that at least Teddy wouldn't be hungry that day.

As if he had heard her thoughts, the loud and out of tune sound of a piano could be heard from elsewhere inside the house. Mr. Todd winced as soon as she heard it and Mrs. Lovett shuddered inside, knowing intuitively that there was only one person beneath the barber's roof who could make such a horrible sound on a musical instrument. She heaved an inward sigh, wondering why Teddy had to misbehave himself now of all times.

"Please don't be mad," she whispered to the barber, finding herself pleading like she had done to him so often in the past – like she had begged for her own life when she realized what he intended to do to her all those years ago. "He doesn't do it on purpose."

"It's all right," he said, his hand making its way in her own once more as he was aware of her distress. "I don't mind, but Victoria... she's very fond of that piano and she doesn't react well to..."

Someone – Teddy – slammed his hand on the doubtlessly delicate keys again. Mrs. Lovett cringed as she saw the expression on the barber's face.

The noise however was followed by the faint sound of laughter. The barker was rather sure that she wasn't hearing this correctly, but as she saw the look of surprise and relief on Sweeney's face, she realized that he must've heard it as well.

The laughter grew louder, making it very clear that it was indeed the blond haired girl who was somehow very amused by whatever it was that Teddy was doing. Victoria's laugh soon mixed with the boy's and for a moment the baker could do nothing but listen to the two children, caught off guard by the apparent playful moment shared by her nephew and the girl that Mr. Todd appeared to be responsible for.

"I can't believe it," he said, eyes focused on the wall behind which the sound was coming from, as if he actually expected to see right through it. "She's _laughing_."

The statement was a rather strange one – as far as the baker knew, girls of Victoria's age spend a lot of time laughing indeed – but as she recalled how serious the girl had been earlier that day, she realized that Victoria was even more quiet and severe than she had initially thought. It seemed so strange for such a girl, making the baker even more curious of her identity and history.

The laughter continued and the look of joy on his face didn't fade. More than ever that suspicious and envious voice inside of her was yelling that the girl was Mr. Todd's daughter, that he had found a replacement for Lucy as soon as she had attempted to rid himself of her. But if she was his daughter, the mother must be somewhere around – or must've been so at one point. During the time that she had spent in his house, Mrs. Lovett had however seen nothing that suggested that there was a potential mother of Victoria somewhere around. All that the baker had found was the picture of Lucy - who most certainly couldn't be the girl's mother, if only because she was very dead indeed and had been for quite some time. The only other woman who the house betrayed the barber's apparent fondness of, was the baker herself.

The only thing that Mrs. Lovett could be entirely sure of was that she herself was not the girl's mother. In spite of the situation the baker's mind began turning at full speed, more eager than ever to find out who exactly the strange girl whom Mr. Todd so fond of actually was. The only other women in Mr. Todd's household who she had been aware of so far was his housekeeper, but she simply was too old to have given birth to the relatively young girl.

The sound of piano could be heard again, interrupting the baker's train of thought. Perfectly played notes were followed by series of tones that were quite less pleasant to her. To her surprise, the baker realized that Victoria was attempting to teach Teddy how to play the piano.

There was a jolt of guilt inside of her now that she knew what was going on in the other room. Although she wasn't a very good player herself, she had always wanted to teach her nephew how to play. In spite of his impatience, she had always felt that he would enjoy it. She never had had the opportunity to teach him however, a piano being in a way the ultimate material symbol of what she had lost when Mr. Todd had forced her to flee from the house where she had lived for the greater part of her life.

"I suppose they'll be quite busy for a while."

The suggestiveness of his words and the way he said them made her blush, making her again forget about her nephew for a while. He didn't attempt to kiss her again however and no matter how strange this was for her to feel that way, Mrs. Lovett was relieved because of this. It made it a lot easier for her to ask some of the questions she had meant to ask for almost as long as she was reunited with the barber, questions that had become even more urgent as she was trying to figure out who Victoria was and what her relationship with Mr. Todd was.

"Tell me what happened to you," she said, eyes pleading just like her voice when she looked at him. "Please."

She hadn't really meant to say that last word; begging the barber to do anything – no matter what – was something she had promised herself never to do again. But it was so easy to fall back in her old habits concerning the man she loved, especially when he was sitting in front of her like this, holding her even now, his expression softer than it had ever been. He seemed almost content – and that was why she was especially afraid to break the moment, to go too far without being aware of it.

"Of course," he said, leaning back against the chair, gently pulling her with him, something which she gladly allowed him to do. To her delight, he didn't seem upset by her curiosity at all, which was another thing that was a complete break from his behavior in the old days. "I'll tell you everything you want to know."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"It's a long story," Sweeney said, looking at her as if he expected her to be discouraged by this.

"That's quite alright," Mrs. Lovett replied, hoping that it wouldn't be too obvious to the barber that she didn't mind at all if he talked for a long time. In fact, she was rather sure that she'd be very happy to listen to him for a very long time indeed.

She had always found it pleasant to listen to him, as long as she could remember. One of the first things she had noticed about Benjamin Barker – after she had become aware of his good looks and kindness – was his voice. It was soft and rather slow, suggesting that he considered his words carefully but still wasn't very confident of them as he spoke.

Mrs. Lovett however had always loved to listen to him. His voice was the most beautiful one she knew, but she also appreciated the things that he said more than the words of anyone else. She found herself agreeing with his opinions almost always for a reason that wasn't even clear to her. Even during the few times that she and the barber had disagreed about something, he had managed to persuade her with soft spoken but clear arguments.

Benjamin Barker had never been a very talkative man; he had always been more content to listen than to talk. Sweeney Todd however hardly talked at all. That made the moments that he did speak even more precious to the baker, even though the words that he did say were almost always a way of expressing his love for his lost family and his hate for the world in general and the Judge in particular.

She hadn't seen him for ten years and it was obvious that a lot had happened to him. It wasn't as horribly drastic as the change from Benjamin Barker to Sweeney Todd, but it was obvious that he had made another transformation.

As she looked at him, she couldn't help but think that a part of him wasn't the demon barber any longer. He still looked like he had done ten years ago, but there was something about him that reminded him of the man he once had been.

It probably was because of the look in his eyes. It had softened, just like the tightness of the curve of his mouth and the formerly seemingly perpetual frown on his forehead. Even though he hadn't spoken to her much now, he had talked more in the short time that she had spent with him than that the Sweeney Todd who she used to know usually did during an entire week.

But there was also a change in the way he moved, except for the limp he had somehow ended up with. She couldn't define it, but he was more at ease than he had been when they still lived together in Fleet Street and this was somehow visible to her in his posture.

The most obvious change however was the apparent affection he held for her now. If she didn't know any better, she'd say that he loved her now just like she had loved him for as long as she could remember. The mere idea however was a ridiculous one and the baker knew it.

She still was very eager however to hear what had happened to him. Not only because she was rather desperate to find out how deep his feelings for her went, but also because she was simply curious about the way he had spent his years since their ways had separated.

Mrs. Lovett was quite happy indeed as she was leaning against him, feeling that his story was finally about to be revealed and that all she had to do now was sit back and listen. He however seemed to have a different idea; he distanced himself a little from her, until he could look her straight in the eyes.

"First of all," Sweeney said, "I have to apologize for what I did to you during the night that Lucy... died."

Although she was aware, even in that situation, that it was a rather inelegant thing to do, the baker's mouth fell open as she heard those words. She almost squeezed herself to make sure again that she was actually awake. It was clear that Sweeney had changed a lot since the last time that she had seen him, but never she had expected him to apologize for his attempt to murder her.

She was glad now that there was some distance between herself and the barber. Not because she feared him as she was reminded of the moment that he had tried to take her life, but because she could look properly at him now. As their eyes locked again, she could see the sincerity in his gaze, telling her that he truly meant his words.

"What I tried to do – what I did – was wrong," he continued, as if interpreting the expression on her face as one of disbelief caused by the regret he was expressing. "I have to say that I wasn't fond of you in those days, but I should never have tried to... kill you."

He obviously had some trouble saying those last words and in spite of herself the baker was so glad to hear this, to find out that he hadn't hated her as much as she feared even before that final night.

"But when I found out what I had done to Lucy, knowing that I would've recognized her if you had told me that she was still alive..."

The barber's voice hesitated, but for a moment it didn't matter to her. The way he pronounced 'alive' told her more than hundreds of words could've done. It made clear that he too now accepted the fact that Lucy hadn't been herself when he had killed her, that the woman he had married had been dead when she had taken the poison, many years before her body was destroyed as well.

"But when I realized who she was, what I had done," he continued, almost more to himself than to her, as if he still couldn't believe himself what he had done. "I felt that I had killed my wife. Not the Beadle, not Turpin – _I. _Only much later I began to see that differently. There's no way to deny that I took what was left of her and that I wouldn't have done so if you had told me that she still... somewhat alive. But eventually I realized that my wife was lost either way and that our life together couldn't have possibly been restored, even if I hadn't murdered her."

He looked at her, very much aware of her again after the moment that he seemed to have been lost in the past once again.

"I began to understand why you didn't tell me the truth about Lucy," he said, reaching for her in a way that was the complete opposite of what he had done ten years ago. "And I'm grateful now that you didn't."

The baker gasped, overwhelmed by the barber's words. Not even in her wildest dreams she had expected to hear this; she hadn't thought that Mr. Todd would ever see why she had done what she had. It was not that she had only lied because she wanted to have him for herself, even though she had to admit that this was the true reason that she hadn't told him that his wife was technically still alive. Another reason was however that she wanted to protect the tormented man against even more pain, to prevent him from finding out what his once beautiful and virtuous wife had been reduced to when Turpin was done with her.

"I want you to know that I'm truly sorry for what I tried to do to you," he said, caressing her cheek with a hand that was, to her surprise, trembling slightly. "I want you to know that I've forgiven you – that it was wrong of me to blame you for anything in the first place."

She tilted her head, moving her cheek against his hand. It was at the moment the only way for her to express how much this meant to her. He moved closer to her again, understanding her perfectly even though she was quite speechless.

There was a short moment of hesitation before their lips brushed again, this alone the ultimate proof to her now that he didn't blame her any longer for what she had done, that he had forgiven her and didn't hold a grudge against her anymore. If he still did, he wouldn't want to be with her in the same room, let alone kiss her.

The kiss was slow and tender, not quite unlike ones they had shared before. This was the first time however that the baker could enjoy it almost fully, knowing now that there was no reason to be afraid of the barber any longer. Because of this the kiss was even better, almost exactly of what she had dreamed of for so long. There were still many things that she wanted to know and even as the barber was kissing her, an almost endless amount of questions was distracting her.

When Mr. Todd moved closer to her and tried to deepen the kiss, she broke away from him. It wasn't an easy thing to do and basically went against everything she had longed for almost as long as she could remember, but she strongly felt now that the barber and she couldn't move forward until they were aware of the part of each other's past that they hadn't shared.

"I'll tell you everything," he said, eyes moving away from her lips to meet hers again. "It's just that I... wanted to do this for a long time."

Mrs. Lovett couldn't help but stare at him as he said those words. Of course, it was obvious now that he shared at least a part of the longing she felt for him. But the way he spoke those words suggested that his feelings for her went deeper than she had thought – much deeper.

It was better than anything she had hoped of, even as the strange events of that day had unraveled. But still, it was the complete opposite of everything that she believed for a very long time, no matter how much she had wanted it to be otherwise.

"I did," he said, clearly aware of her disbelief. "I do."

"But what… how…"

The baker hated the way she reacted to him, wished that she could at least put her thoughts into proper sentences – it was not something she usually had much trouble with. But this wasn't exactly a usual situation and both of them knew this.

"Please," she said, not able to bother any longer that she was using that word – again - when addressing him.

She didn't even know what exactly she was asking him for, only that she wanted to know how it was possible that he seemed to care for her in such a way, that his longing for her almost seemed to equal her own desire to be with him.

"I don't know how it happened, or why," he said, as his hands moved up to cup her cheeks, caressing her skin with his thumbs. "For years, I was so angry with you because you hadn't told me the full truth about Lucy. But as time passed, I began to see why you had done it. Like I said, I started to understand that you perhaps had done the right thing by keeping me from what had happened to my wife. When Victoria was left in my care and I was forced to build a proper life for her and thus for myself, the anger I felt for you was gone. And instead…"

The baker was desperate to know what he intended to say next, wanting to _understand_ why his feelings for her had changed so much. It was as if she wanted to judge his motivations and changes, as if she could only trust him – could only really believe that he actually cared for her so much – when his reasons for doing so seemed valid enough to her. The desire was stronger than her need to find out who Victoria was and what the girl was doing in the barber's house, no matter how much that question was bothering her, even now.

He was struggling to find the right words and he was obviously failing. Perhaps it was because he hadn't actually talked for so long, as if he had forgotten to share his thoughts with others. Or maybe his thoughts were too complex to put into words. Either possibility wouldn't surprise the baker – but she was still in despair of his explanation.

There came none, however. Or at least, not the one she had hoped for – a chronological tale of the development of his life – and mostly, of his opinion of her - given in clear and simple sentences. Instead, the hands that had been caressing her face locked around her neck, pulling her closer to him to initiate another kiss.

For a moment, she actually felt somewhat disappointed because of this. No matter how much she had always dreamed of touching the barber like this – and no matter how pleasant this indeed turned out to be when it was actually happening – she felt that she couldn't truly enjoy his kisses and caresses until she knew what had caused them.

But as he continued to kiss her, the heat and fierceness of his mouth claiming her with a desperation that might as well have been her own, it didn't matter any longer. Although he used none of the words and sentences that she thought to need to understand him, there was something in his kiss that made very clear to her that his feelings were genuine, that she could trust him completely even though she didn't really know why, what had changed throughout the years to turn him into this different version of himself.

"I didn't understand it," he said, breaking a moment away from her to speak, "I still don't."

Even as he opened his mouth to continue with another sentence, Mrs. Lovett couldn't help but close the small distance between them, kissing him again. Her own inconsistent behavior was driving her rather crazy, but she couldn't help it – it was just that she couldn't chose any longer between reason and desire now that the barber was kissing her like _this _even when he appeared to be about to be somewhat able to explain to her why he shared her feelings for her now.

"When time passed, I could think more clearly," he managed to say as they broke away for the shortest moment to take in some much needed air. "I began to remember you… things about you of which I didn't even know I had ever noticed them."

The kiss that followed was filled with love and affection, but it was rough as the two of them were overpowered by desire for each other, to give in to it at least now that they finally had the chance.

Sensing that he wanted to talk now, as if he couldn't explain what had happened to him during any other moment, but unable to break away from him, the baker moved to the pale skin of his neck, pulling his vest and shirt away as far as she could to gain access to the body that she had longed for almost as long as she could remember.

"I began to _miss _you," he said, even as he sighed with pleasure as her tongue and lips explored the skin near his throat and neck, much like he had kissed her earlier that day, her touches lacking only some of the possessive aggression that he had displayed earlier. "I realized what a fool I had been, not to notice what was right in front of me… to treat you the way I had, even though I was still longing for a woman who was no longer there any more."

Although she had no way to confirm to herself that he was actually talking the truth, Mrs. Lovett was elated. It was almost as if she was actually dreaming; words like this were the ones that she had been so eager to hear from him for a very long time indeed.

She would love to hear more about this, to understand how it had happened exactly that Sweeney had developed such feelings for her. Thinking however was once more becoming difficult as the barber kissed her again, his mouth exploring hers in a way of which she had been rather sure that he would never do so.

Mrs. Lovett herself wasn't so fond of thinking herself at the moment, preferring to lose herself in another kiss even as a part of her was even more curious now to the things that had happened to the barber when she was gone, things that must've influenced him in such a way that he had become the man who was kissing her now with such passion.

A fire begun to burn inside of her once again, reminding her of the blind need she had felt when Mr. Todd had kissed her in the alley earlier that day. The way he caused those feelings deep within her was slightly terrifying, as the need that he caused overpowered all her other emotions, until it felt as if it was almost burning her.

Stopping however was the last thing that she wanted to do when the need for each other overtook both of them again. Their kisses deepened but became at the same time less focused as both of them were trying to find some sort of completion at last.

Mr. Todd's lips and tongue ravished her own and his hands slid up and down her body, making her weak with want in a way she hadn't even thought that he was capable of. She could only vaguely realize that they were much more comfortable now than they had been shortly before, when they had struggled for release right next to their former home, and although Teddy and Victoria weren't far away, the uneven and off-key sounds of the piano that could still be heard told her that she didn't have to be afraid to be caught by the two children once again.

"We can talk later," Sweeney said as she broke away from his mouth for a moment to kiss his neck, recalling how much he had seemed to like that earlier. "Agreed?"

"Agreed," Mrs. Lovett managed to say, the second half of the confirmation lost in a moan when the barber suddenly moved his mouth to her shoulders, his teeth grazing her skin and his hands moving down her body. It was all the confirmation that the barber needed.

Their position was a rather awkward one and they both realized it simultaneously. He pulled her towards him, the distance between them having become too big as she was still sitting with her legs swung over his. Two pair of hands reached for her skirts, pulling them up without any care for the old and quite vulnerable material.

As soon as she was able to do so, Mrs. Lovett straddled the barber, both of them groaning as their bodies were pressed together again. Sweeney leaned back in her old chair and she simply leaned against him, their bodies molding together so much easier and comfortably than before. None of them however were thinking about their failed attempts earlier that day, their beings focused on nothing but each other in the current moment.

She wasn't sure whether she actually had the courage to do so now, but as Mr. Todd reached for the strings that held her dress against her body, the baker found herself grasping the barber's belt. Her hands were shaking as she attempted to undo it, Sweeney not making it any easier for her as he was basically attempting to tear the dress off her body, hands tormenting every inch of flushed skin that he touched when doing so.

The baker tried not to think of which part of him she was trying to expose, actually doing so being so difficult already. When Mr. Todd somehow succeeded in untying some of the laces on the back of her dress, pulling the now lose fabric down her body, she forced herself to move away from him for a moment. If she didn't do so now she would probably never have the chance and this way it would also be easier to get completely rid of her dress. Her corset would be the next barrier but that was something that she didn't want to consider at that moment.

She managed to move to the edge of the chair, moving away from Sweeney while doing so, thus finally having enough space between them to unbuckle his belt at last. Their eyes met when she reached for him again. The fire that was burning inside of her was visible in his gaze as well and the baker's hands almost dropped at her side, the sight of this look in his eyes so beautiful but still unexpected that it caught her off guard.

After a moment of silent determination, both of them reached forward to undo his belt. Their hands brushed as they did so, the fire within him spreading to the areas where their fingers were touching accidentally.

They both looked up as this happened, meeting each other's gaze again. The look in his eyes was unlike anything she had ever seen. He looked at her in a way that no one else had ever done, his desire for her obvious, but in a way that suggested that it was not just her body that he wanted. To see that look in _his _eyes was almost a miracle itself. It was almost tempting just to sit back and watch him looking at her that way. She was rather sure that there would come a moment that she would actually do so if she had the chance, but now there were more pressing matters to tend to.

"Let me do it," he said, doubtlessly sensing that they wouldn't accomplish anything in the chaos that they were currently creating as their need for each other consumed them.

The baker nodded. She had longed for a moment like this one for a very long time and she wanted to be the one to cross this final border between them, to make an end to the last obstacle that prevented them from becoming one at last. But she was also vaguely aware that they wouldn't get anywhere if they kept going on like this.

She moved back further, resting her weight on his knees to give him all the space that he needed, wanting to get the belt out of their way at last. The barber however groaned when she shifted her weight and the sound wasn't one of joy or pleasure.

The baker's eyes widened in panic, wondered what had happened, what had gone wrong _this _time. But more than being shocked that this attempt to be claimed completely by the barber that she loved had apparently ended so unexpectedly as well, she was horrified because Mr. Todd appeared to be in serious pain.

"What's wrong?" she asked, the despair of giving herself to him at last replaced by worry for the man of whom she hardly knew anything now.

Mr. Todd however didn't answer as he shut his eyes firmly and clenched his fists. She was horrified, having no idea what to do or how to help him, to lessen the pain that was obviously consuming him now like his desire for her had done only seconds ago.

With the few parts of her mind that were still somewhat functioning after all that had happened that day, the baker realized that she should call for Mrs. Clint. The barber's housekeeper might have an idea what was wrong with him and hopefully knew how to help him.

Before she could do so however two strong hands grasped her waist and dragged her forward, until she was leaning against Sweeney's chest once more. The reason for this was however much less obvious to her now than it had been before.

Mr. Todd seemed to relax a little when she was so close to him again and although she had no idea why she appeared to be influencing him like that, she was glad that he didn't seem to be in as much pain as he had been before.

Not knowing what else to do now that his hands were simply resting on her waist, she sat as still as she could, deciding to wait until the pain was gone to the extent that he could tell her what had happened.

Sweeney's body slowly relaxed beneath her own and after an undefined amount of time had passed, he released a long sigh, resting his head against the cushion of the chair behind him.

The pain was obviously decreasing and she was very relieved because of this, but the hurt he had been experiencing was obviously being replaced by something else that bothered him.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice betraying that he was tormented now by frustration.

Mrs. Lovett didn't know for a moment what he was talking about – she had no idea why he was apologizing. Although she certainly hadn't done it on purpose, it was very clear to her that _she _was the one who had hurt the barber. It was not as if this had been the other way around.

But as the initial panic wore off, she realized what he was referring too. Before he had screamed out in pain because of something she had apparently done, it had seemed as if both of them finally were about to completely give in to their desire for each other.

"It's all right," Mrs. Lovett said quickly, in spite of her still flushed state being mostly relieved that the barber was feeling better.

She watched him for a moment, not knowing what to do. Mr. Todd however remained resting against the chair, his breath heavy.

"What happened?"

She wanted to know what she had done to accidentally cause him so much pain – not only because it had ruined another moment between them, but mostly because she felt guilty for what she had done, even though she didn't know what had caused his physical reaction.

"It's my leg," he said after a moment of silence, his voice soft and low.

Only then she remembered what she had seen earlier that day. Sweeney had been limping; there had happened something to his right leg that prevented him from walking properly. It was the same leg that she had just rested the majority of her weight on when she had sat back to give him all the space he needed to unbuckle his belt. She wasn't exactly a heavy woman – she had never been, not even in the one stage in her life that food had been plentiful – but she could only imagine how much pain she had caused the barber by sitting down on the leg with the unknown injury.

"I'm so sorry," she breathed, horror welling up inside of her again as she realized what she had done, how she had forgotten about everything but the fire that the barber and she seemed to be sharing now.

"Don't be – it's not your fault. You didn't know."

The baker didn't entirely agree with that, but she decided not to argue.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked, wanting her presumption that he was indeed recovering to be confirmed.

"I am," he said, but there was something in his voice as he said those two words that betrayed that the pain wasn't gone entirely yet at all.

Without really thinking about it, Mrs. Lovett moved forward, just in case making sure that her body wasn't touching his at all except for the two hands that cupped his cheeks, caressing him.

"I'm all right," he repeated, as if he for some reason didn't want to be touched by her like this. But Mrs. Lovett was an observational and determined woman. She could tell that he enjoyed her caresses, so she continued to stroke his face lightly. There was still a tension within him however and although she knew exactly what had caused it, she didn't know how to deal with it. She didn't exactly have much experience with situations like this.

"About what just... did not happen," she said, choosing her words carefully as if the way they just had kissed and touched, willing to take things to a much further level, would turn out to be nothing but a dream after all if she talked about it too freely, "It doesn't matter that it... didn't."

She shook her head, her own words confusing her now. She couldn't actually believe that _she _was the one trying to soothe the barber's disappointment caused by the fact that they had just once again failed to physically confirm their apparent love for each other in the ultimate way.

"There will be a next time, won't it?" she eventually asked.

"Yes, most certainly," he said, opening his eyes for a brief moment. "As far as I'm concerned."

He added the last part as if it was a mere afterthought, but she could easily tell that it was so much more than that. She almost sighed, thinking that the barber was perhaps just as thick as he had been in the old days after all. She had no idea how he could even think that she wouldn't be there to experience another – hopefully more successful - attempt with him.

"I'll be there," she whispered in his ear, as if the words were more true that way.

He didn't reply, but after a while she could feel that he was finally fully relaxing. She calmed down as well as became clear that the damage she had done wasn't too bad. She continued touching his cheek; he didn't seem to need her soothing any longer, but she was more than happy just to caress the face that she had dreamed of for the greater part of her life.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

It was clear to her that he was going to say no, but before he had said that one word, he changed his mind and nodded.

"What can I do?" she asked, very glad to hear that he was willing to accept her help, something he had never really done before, let alone in such a personal matter.

"Getting off me."

The barber gasped because of what he said even before Mrs. Lovett had fully registered the meaning of his words.

"As a first step, I mean."

The barber was obviously embarrassed because of the accidental implication of his words. It was strange to hear him like this; it was unusual for her to actually hear him talk to her in the first place. He also had trouble finding the right words and although she didn't fully understand it, it was a relief to know that she wasn't the only one who was confused and overwhelmed by the situation.

Doing what he had told her, she carefully stretched her legs, letting go off his face with reluctance. His hands were on her waist, guiding her upwards in such a way that she wouldn't accidentally hurt him again.

She ended up standing on the chair that she was still sitting on, a feet planted on the comfortable material that it was made of on either side of his body. She jumped off the chair, knowing that this was by far the easiest way to prevent any further damage, and was proud at herself when she neatly ended on both her feet without making a greater fool of herself or hurting him by accident once again.

She kneeled down in front of him, awaiting his instructions as she looked up at him. She was vaguely aware that the way she was leaning down in front of him was suggestive indeed. She had secretly fantasized about moments of this, but this wasn't what she was thinking of now. She wanted to help him, the urge to ease his pain stronger than her old desire to proof to him that there were no limits of what she was willing to do anything for him.

"It's my right leg," he said, sitting up somewhat to be able to look at her properly. "The left one from your point of view."

She reached for the edge of the thick fabric that covered this leg, hands lingering on the material. When she had been very eager to undress the barber, mere moments ago, she hadn't exactly thought of this. But now that the situation had changed in this direction, she actually felt rather awkward. It seemed somewhat wrong to intrude like this on the life of the man who she loved but hardly knew – for as far as she had ever done so in the first place.

Mr. Todd just nodded however, indicating that he was all right with this – and there was something in his eyes that suggested that he was actually glad that she was the one doing it.

With all the care that she had within her, the baker rolled up the fabric that covered his leg as he gestured her to do so.

"It isn't a pleasant sight," he warned her as she was exposing his lower leg.

Mrs. Lovett didn't know what to think of that. She had seen quite some things in her life, and so had the barber. She highly doubted that any injury on the relatively healthy barber could be anywhere near as shocking as the dead and mutilated bodies that he used to drop on her basement floor. But of course, the smallest injury on Sweeney's body would be a thousand times worse than the gruesome wounds he used to inflict on his nameless victims.

She gently pushed the last inches of fabric out of her way, exposing the injury that caused him to limb. The baker gasped when her eyes fell on the scarred skin, the area right above his knee colored with red and purple even though the wound had healed – as far as that was a good way to describe it – a long time ago.

The baker couldn't help but stare, even though this wasn't exactly the polite thing to do, especially not because Sweeney seemed to be holding his breath as she watched him, as if his life was depending on the way she would react to his injury.

"That's terrible," she breathed, unable to take her eyes off the large and ugly scar. "What happened?"

"A bullet went right through it," he said, "and it got infected. The doctor said I should be happy to still have my leg."

Tears welled in the baker's eyes as she heard this. The word 'bullet' made her shiver, her mind running wild with possible reasons why someone was willing to injury the barber like that – shooting at him, intending to kill him. She had no idea how this had happened, who was responsible for this, and it was the wrong moment to ask. But the questions were added to the almost endless amount that was swarming inside of her already.

"Does it hurt?"

The question was relatively innocent but seemed abundant – it wasn't very likely that such a wound wasn't very painful even when it wasn't accidentally touched in situations like the one that they were currently in.

"It usually doesn't," he said. "Only when there's a lot of pressure on it. I even learned to walk quite well with it."

He took the bottle of cream out of one of the pockets of his vest. She understood now why he had had before and why he knew that it was useful to heal damaged skin. He opened the lid, then looked at her as if he wasn't sure what he should do next.

"I'll do it," she said, sensing the question that he didn't want to ask.

He nodded, giving her the small bottle.

"You can touch it," he said, looking away from the remains of the terrible wound even as he was talking about it.

He meant of course that she could touch it to apply the cream, but the baker had for the time being a slightly different idea. Before she had given them actual permission to do so, her fingers moved to his scarred skin, brushing against it after only the shortest moment of hesitation.

The barber's gaze landed on her hands as soon as he felt the touch, an expression of disbelief on his face.

"What..."

Before he could say any more, the baker continued the touch, caressing the rough surface beneath her fingertips. She didn't really know why she was doing it, only that she wanted to experience herself how he had changed during the years to at least some extent, at the same time wanting to make clear to him that the huge scare didn't bother her.

The barber stared at her, obviously not knowing what to think. Then he sat back in the chair, relaxing again. Although she was quite far away from his face now, she could clearly hear the sigh that her touches caused.

She was relieved to see him like this, both apparently free of pain and completely accepting her presence, even in this situation. Intuitively, she sat down on her knees in front of him, resting her head on his good leg as she continued to move her hand over his ruined skin.

One of his hand tangled in her hair, caressing her as well. The moment of comfort couldn't differ more from the heated minutes they had just spent together, but the baker was in a way glad that this had happened. This was about more than lust and affection that she couldn't be sure of just yet – she needed his acceptance and his trust at least just as much as his desire.

When he was fully relaxed, she removed herself from him for a moment, reaching for the bottle that he had just given her. She put some of the cream on her finger, massaging it into his skin just like he had done to her before.

The barber's sighs of contentment became more frequent now and although she forced herself not to forget that this was partly caused by the pleasant sensations of the cream as well, Mrs. Lovett couldn't help but feeling proud for managing to get such a reaction out of him. Her hands were touching him after all and there was no way to deny that he was enjoying it.

In spite of the things that had not happened since the barber and she had settled in the chair that she had always been so fond of, the baker couldn't help but be content herself. She still had no idea what had happened to Mr. Todd during the years that they had been separated – if anything, she was more confused now, the big scar that she was currently tending to suggesting that his story was going to be even more unexpected than she had initially thought.

When the enfolding story had developed into some sort of twisted declaration of love before it had even actually started, it had seemed as if they finally could make up for the lack of release they had been confronted with earlier that day. But even as this too turned out to be nothing but another drastically failed attempt, it had transformed into something better than that.

It was not pleasant to see the barber's old injury. Not because she couldn't stand the actual sight of it, but because she hated the idea that he had suffered even more because it was inflicted upon him. But at the same time, it had allowed her to look after him like she had always wanted to. This time, he had accepted her help as she applied to cream, even encouraging her as he rested his hand on her shoulder, caressing her exposed skin as she was taking care of his.

Although she was more than ever unsure of what the future would bring, she couldn't help but feel that it was going to be a lot better than anything that she had known for a very long time.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Even as the cream had dried and Mr. Todd was as pain-free as he could get, Mrs. Lovett remained where she was, reclining against the barber's body as she caressed the skin above his knee. Sweeney himself didn't stop the movements of his hand in her hair and on her shoulders and neck either, and the baker couldn't help but feel that she could sit like this for a very, very long time.

After a while however her legs got sore and she was starting to get rather cold now that she was further away from both the barber and the fire than she had been before. As if sensing this, Mr. Todd took her hand in his own, gesturing her to stand up.

When she did so, her dress slid a few inches down her body. She grasped the fabric, shocked and surprised, until she recalled that he had managed to undo the strings on the back that usually kept the material in place.

The barber stared at her and she stared back, for another moment unable believe that he was actually looking at her like _that_.

"Come sit with me," he said at length, patting at the part of the arm chair where she had been before.

She would be very happy to do so, but as she looked at the still exposed scar, she couldn't help but remember what had happened last time that she had been so close to the barber.

"We just have to be careful," he said, aware of her reluctance and the reason for it.

'Careful' wasn't exactly a word that was actually suitable for the barber and herself, but she knew that they had to be in order to make this work. It had earlier become rather clear several times after all that things weren't going smoothly between them purely because of practical reasons.

Mr. Todd covered the scar, returning the fabric of his trousers to its original place. When he was doing so, the baker got an idea. It probably wasn't a very good and especially not an appropriate one, but it was the only way she could think of to decrease the chance that she would accidentally hurt the barber again. It was not that she wouldn't try to be careful – but that it was basically impossible not to touch the barber's sore leg in any way as long as she was wearing the heavy and long skirt.

When he reached forward to pull the lowest part of his trousers in place, the baker herself shrugged off the fabric of the dress that was partially undone already. She tried not to think of Mr. Todd's reaction just yet – she wasn't exactly sure whether he would appreciate the rash action, but she didn't know what to do otherwise.

His eyes widened almost comically when he sat up again and his eyes fell on her. She would've been amused by the expression of shock on his face, if she hadn't been so scared that he would think that she had gone too far.

"Those skirts have been in the way all day," she said, trying to relieve the tension with a rather awkward joke, but being not very successful at it.

As Sweeney continued to stare at her, the baker began to feel very awkward indeed. Now that she had taken her dress was off, it was not as if he could actually see indecent amounts of her skin; the dress covered her hardly more than her corset, stockings and bloomers were still doing.

Those items of clothing however were clinging tightly to her body, showing every curve that the barber had been quite eager to touch mere moments ago. Plus the fact that it was, as she realized now, indeed a rather drastic measure just to undress partly like this in front of him – never mind that he had started the process himself.

Her face was turning almost just as red as her bloomers. Unaware of this, the barber blinked a few times, as if wanting to ensure himself that this was really happening and that he wasn't hallucinating. Only then he seemed to become aware of her embarrassment.

"Sit with me," he said again, more powerfully this time.

It was all the confirmation that the baker needed. She stepped forward, only then becoming aware of the boots she was still wearing. Sensing that it would probably best to keep the sharp heels as far away from Mr. Todd as possible, she kicked them off. It probably would've been better to take them off with some more care, seeing that they were almost falling apart already, but bending down in front of the barber now that she wasn't wearing her dress any longer didn't seem like such a good idea. It was not as if she had the patience to do so anyway.

She approached him, trying to figure out how to sit comfortably close to him without risking hurting him any longer. She eventually decided to sit exactly like she had done before, legs swung over the armrest of the chair and his own upper legs, making sure that they didn't touch the scar.

Once she was sitting, Mr. Todd wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to him and resting his face on her shoulder. Feeling his warm and even breath against her skin, the baker closed her eyes, clinging to the moment of peaceful intimacy that had seemed so completely impossible mere hours ago.

Although her discarded dress wasn't covering her any longer, the baker didn't feel cold at all. Resting against Mr. Todd's solid chest in a comfortable chair near the fire that was burning merrily in the hearth, she felt in fact warmer than she had done for a very long time.

"Your tea," he said after a moment of silence, reaching for the small table where his housekeeper had placed the two cups earlier. "We should drink it before it cools too much."

She nodded, vaguely wondering if there would ever come an end to the surprises of that day. Mr. Todd was simply chivalrous, the way he handed her the cup of tea and did a very good job at not looking at her in a way that was considered inappropriate, even though some not so covered parts of her body were almost right in front of her face.

Her own being however was getting tired of asking the same unanswered questions over and over again. She couldn't be sure whether he was soon going to explain after all what had turned him into this new version of himself, how it could be that he actually reminded her of Benjamin Barker during moments like this.

As the two of them were sipping their tea, leaning against it each other in the chair that used to dominate the baker's parlor, Mrs. Lovett refused once again to think about the absurdity of the situation. She had no idea how long it would last, but she wanted to savor the moment, enjoy it as long as she could.

Thinking about the barber himself was a rather dangerous thing to do now that she was sitting so close to him. She had the idea that she would very easily lose control over herself again if she would actually consider just how close she was sitting to him and how little clothing she was wearing. During two times that day they had already attempted to give in to their apparent desire for each other; she didn't even want to think of what could happen now that they were sitting together like this, the barriers between them smaller than they had ever been.

Giving in to her long cherished fantasies now however would probably be not a very good idea; fate had proven two times already that there appeared to be something that was stopping them. Mrs. Lovett didn't have a clue what they possibly could have to wait for; but perhaps it was just life teasing her – punishing her – for all the times that she had tried to mold the barber's life in a way that suited her own, telling himself so often to _wait_.

The tea turned out to be a very welcome distraction from those thoughts. It was unlike anything she had ever tasted, not even when she had been able to afford proper tea when her own business had been blossoming. It tasted like the apple she had smelled before and she was again aware of the exotic ingredient that she had been aware of earlier. But even now that she was drinking the tea, she had no idea what she was tasting exactly. For a moment she was tempted to ask him, but no matter how much she was intrigued by the tea – delicious and mysterious, just like the barber himself – it was the least interesting thing she could possibly ask him now.

The world outside the parlor ceased to exist as the barber and the baker were snuggled against each other, staring at the flames in the hearth as they slowly drank their tea.

"When the Beadle and the Judge were dead, and when you escaped, I knew that I couldn't stay in Fleet Street. I had to leave London as soon as I could."

Mrs. Lovett looked away from the pleasant fire when she heard the barber's voice. She was both surprised and delighted to hear him speak. It was not as if he had often talked to her on his own accord in the past, especially not when it was about things that she was particularly curious about.

"After what had happened – after what I had done – there was no reason for me to continue living. During my banishment I had survived to return to my family and once I was in London again I had to stay alive to revenge my wife and child. I had always known that there would be nothing left after that."

Even though the room was warm and the barber was right next to her, having made very clear to her that he didn't blame her any longer, Mrs. Lovett couldn't help but shiver. She knew exactly what Sweeney was talking about. He had never said so to her – which wasn't a surprise – but she had always sensed that he was convinced that there was nothing left for him once he had avenged his family.

Mr. Todd tightened his hold on her, seemingly aware of the effect of his words on her. The gesture calmed her, reminding her that whatever he was going to tell her now belonged to the past and wouldn't come back to haunt either of them.

"I didn't mind dying," he continued, "but under no circumstances I wanted to be arrested again, to go back to prison before being sentenced to death."

The way he spoke about a possible arrest and prison made her tremble slightly. She could hear fear in his voice, even now. It reminded her of what he must've gone through for fifteen years, before he had managed to escape the colony. He had never talked about the things that had happened to him and she was rather sure that he even wouldn't do so now. She didn't mind this however; it wasn't difficult to guess the basics of what he had experienced during those years.

She was rather sure however that even her worst nightmares about his fate were nothing compared to what truly had happened. She could only hope that the barber himself had found a way to deal with the horrors that he had been forced to live through and even the baker herself sensed that talking about it would do more harm than good.

"I fled to the south," he said. "I have no idea why I did so; I just walked and walked without being aware of where I was going, until I reached the coast. I had taken nothing with me except for my clothes and razor that I had had with me when I killed Turpin and Bamford. When I reached a village, I managed to steal clean clothes and remove the blood from the knife. I had no food and shelter however and doing any more against the law to get it would be a bad idea, because it would only draw attention to myself. Because of this I also couldn't earn money with my own profession."

The barber was silent, as if he was reviving that day that had taken place a decade ago even now.

"I remember being frustrated by how soon I found myself being in a rather hopeless situation without your help. Even then I couldn't help but admit to myself that things would've been easier if we still would've been together. Especially then, you were much more... practical than I ever was."

The baker couldn't help but smile, recognizing a compliment when she got one, especially one that was so big and flattering as the one that Mr. Todd was currently giving her.

"There was not much time for me to think of what I should do next. I was... tempted to go after you. If it hadn't been for you, my wife would've still been alive. Or at least, as alive as she had been when Turpin was done with her."

This time, she wasn't aware that Mr. Todd basically openly admitted that Lucy couldn't have been saved, just like she had always known. The shivering of her body didn't come to an end, but this time because he told her that he had been actually planning to find her, to try again to take her life after he had failed to do so in the bakehouse.

His hand reached for her own, caressing it, even before intuitive panic overtook the baker. Sweeney had obviously expected this reaction and was willing to calm her, knowing how his words effected her. This soothed her and she rested her head against his chest again, thus encouraging him to continue.

"I think I really would've done it," he muttered, shame and horror clear in his voice. "I truly didn't understand why you hadn't told me. I was angry with you in a way I had never been before – not even when the Judge was concerned. It seemed that I needed someone to blame even then. I had forgotten already about what you had said to me when I found out – or at least, I couldn't remember it for a very long time. But I had to take a quick decision; I couldn't stay long in that village, hiding myself. Someone was bound to realize who I was sooner or later."

There was another silence. Mrs. Lovett tightened the grasp of her arms that were wrapped around the barber's chest, trying to prevent him from returning to a place where she couldn't follow him.

"I still don't know how it could've happened," Sweeney said after a few seconds. "It must've been nothing but coincidence. But still, the odds of that ship appearing that night..."

He shook his head, looking at her, only then seemingly remembering that she was still there.

"There was a storm that night," he said, and Mrs. Lovett found herself nodding, remembering it as well. The storm had been a particularly brutal one. It had left her trembling in the abandoned house where she had been hiding, feeling as if the barber's wrath had somehow caught up with her after all.

"There had been a ship anchored in front of the coast. It was swept on the rocks near the village. It was a naval ship and in the chaos that followed, I managed to mingle with the crew. After a few days the ship was repaired and before the news about the two of us had reached the area, it sailed away – with me on it. No one seemed to realize that I didn't belong on that ship. And if someone would've found out who I really was... well, I would've noticed."

"How long did you stay aboard?" the baker asked, the question leaving her mouth before she could stop herself.

"Several years," he answered. "Four at least."

Mrs. Lovett sighed inwardly, not believing what she was hearing. It was only logical that the barber had left England – he probably would've been found otherwise, his crimes being even more discussed than her own and his looks more unusual than hers. But it was rather ironic that she had spent so long fearing that the barber would return to kill her after all, when she had literally been out of his reach all that time.

"It was for me just a way to make sure I wouldn't get caught," he said. "And before and after my banishment I had spent quite some time on boats; I knew how to do the necessary work. I had never been a soldier, but killing was something I was quite good at."

The baker didn't fail to notice the sarcastic curve of his lips. She herself couldn't help but feel that the barber's story was defined by irony. It was indeed hard to imagine that the man who had harmed so many London citizens had been risking his life fighting for the same nation.

"Life aboard however was better than I had expected. The conditions were much less unpleasant than on both ships I had been on before and there were only battles with ships of other countries every once in a while. I spent more time working as a barber than holding any actual weapons. The other soldiers and even the officers were actually quite... friendly."

Mrs. Lovett's lips curled upwards because of the way that he pronounced the last word, as if he still couldn't belief to find anything else than hatred and cruelty in the world, let alone on a ship belonging to the British navy.

"One of the men reminded me very much of the man I had once been myself," Sweeney added. "He called himself Lee; for years, I knew him only by that name. He was quite young and he paid me a few times a week a few pennies in exchange for a shave. He tried to start a conversation with me countless times, but I wasn't inclined to do so. Even as time passed, I kept thinking about Lucy and Johanna – about what you had done. Forming any ties in the world that I was living in now wasn't something I was willing to do."

The baker almost rolled her eyes. It was quite easy to imagine the barber in an English uniform, ignoring anything and anyone around him. Except for the clothing, that was how he had been around her for several months, no matter how much she had wanted it to be otherwise.

"But after a while it became impossible to continue like that. Lee was very insisted, but at the same time he seemed sincere... as if he truly wanted to get to know me. So we talked. Our conversations become longer and more personal. I never told him anything about who I was now, but I found it strangely easy to hide myself behind the character of the man who I once had been. Perhaps it wasn't difficult at all because Lee was so much like I had been once myself."

His voice faltered for a moment, as if he was in his mind talking to the man that Mrs. Lovett had never heard of until a minute ago, instead of telling about his recent life to the woman who he was currently holding.

"He talked a lot about his young child. A girl, yellow hair... before I knew it, I found myself talking to him about Johanna, how it had been like when she was just born. I couldn't mention what had happened to her when she grew older without giving away too much about myself and who I had become – who I really was. But it was actually rather easy and calming just to talk about our young daughters."

The baker felt a pang of envy when she heard that Mr. Todd had allowed another human being to get relatively close to him after all – a person who wasn't her. But she was the one sitting so close to him right now, _she _was the one who he had kissed earlier with obvious desire, and she hadn't forgotten it.

"Once every few months the ship would port in an English harbor. We had the possibility to post or receive letters at such moments. That's how Lee found out that his wife was severely ill, even though she was hundreds of kilometers away. He wanted to go to her, of course, but he couldn't. He needed the money that he earned by serving the navy to look after his wife and his child and he had signed a contract when he had enrolled, bounding him to the ship. Lee was desperate. I knew that feeling very well and for the first time, I felt a connection between us."

Mr. Todd was silent for a moment before continuing his story, as if the events were playing in front of his eyes even now.

"It was the first time I really talked about Lucy. Usually I avoided talking about her – it was still too painful to truly think about her, because it reminded me too much of what had happened to her – because of me. But as we talked about our spouses and I omitted the parts of our lives that I couldn't speak of, I found out that it was some sort of comfort to share some of my thoughts with someone else."

The baker had once again some difficulty hiding her emotions. She was triumphant when she heard him confirm at last what she had told him all this time. Indeed, if she would've gotten a penny for every time that she had said to the barber that he would feel better if he talked to someone about whatever it was that tormented him – talked to _her –_ she would've been a very rich woman indeed. At the same time however she couldn't suppress a feeling of jealousy at finding out that there was someone who he had trusted much more than her, even though this man was someone he hardly knew.

"Only a few weeks after Lee received the letter in which his wife wrote that she felt that she wouldn't live much longer, our ship was attacked by a small French fleet in the middle of the night. There weren't many ships, but we were outnumbered. We were ordered however to fight."

Sweeney closed his eyes and she could sense the tension that appeared in his body when he talked about the battle that must've taken place several years ago. It was clear that he was reluctant to talk about it – even now, even to her.

"The ship was boarded by French soldiers. I managed to kill at least four of them before I was shot in my leg. The battle continued around me. Many other men fell, most of them crew members of my ship – Lee was one of them. There was nothing I could do however, nothing to help him or even defend myself. As I was lying there, I wondered how it could be that time was continuing around us. So many lives were ending, but the world continued spinning as if nothing was going on. The sound of the canons, the smell of gunpowder and fire, the noises of men screaming around me, either in triumph or defeat, their grunts – their silence. The _pain_... Only then I realized that life on the ship had been so quiet thus far, how pleasant it had been. I had forgotten what it felt like to die."

The silence that followed this was longer than any that had fallen before. Mrs. Lovett looked at him, face illuminated by the light of the flames in the room that was getting dark now that the winter day was coming to an end. She could almost see the pain he felt as he recalled this moment, as if he saw his friend being wounded right in front of him even now.

"I don't know what happened after that. I must've lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes again, it was still dark, but it was very quiet. For a long time I was only aware of the pain in my leg. There were guards around me, but they had their back towards me. It was clear that they were busier enjoying the celebration of their victory than doing their actual work. I managed to bind my leg with parts of my uniform. When the fblood flow was stopped, the pain lessened a little and I could look around me more properly. There were a lot of heavily wounded men around me, all of them being part of the crew of the ship that I served on. None of them appeared to be capable of moving. There was no sign of the dead; they must've been thrown off the deck. Lee wasn't far away from me. I was relieved that he was still alive, but he was severely wounded and wouldn't live much longer if he didn't get any help."

Although she was only hearing the story and wasn't actual part of it, Mrs. Lovett felt as if she was right there. Sweeney was telling the story in such a way that it seemed as if she was actually experiencing it herself. It was far too easy to imagine his pain and fear; it almost seemed as if she was feeling it herself, even though the events that he was describing had taken place long ago and far away from London. The barber had survived in relative good health – otherwise he wouldn't be sitting next to her right now, telling her this. But she found herself clinging to him anyway.

Even though both Mr. Todd's surprisingly warm body and the burning fire were close to her, they couldn't chase the sudden coldness in her body away, no matter how much she reminded herself that this was nothing but a story – a real and haunting story, but a story nonetheless.

Aware of her reaction to his story, Sweeney took off his vest and pulled it around her shoulders, covering her partly exposed upper body with the thick fabric.

"I knew I had to do something. On the other half of the ship were the crew members who weren't wounded and they weren't guarded very well either, but they were chained to the masts and couldn't go anywhere without help. The men around me and I were free, but I appeared to be the only one who was even concscious. All our weapons were taken from us, but they must've missed the razor that I was carrying with me, for it was still in its holster. There was for me only one way to act."

The baker closed her eyes for a moment. A moment ago she had had no idea how the barber had managed to get out of the situation, but now she had a rather good idea.

"I don't know how I did it, but I got up and approached the guards, without them noticing. I sneaked up behind them and slit their throats, one by one. No one saw anything, except for the members of my crew who were captured but not severely wounded. I freed them. We took the weapons of the men we had killed and went to the one French ship that had remained right next to ours. It wasn't much of a fight – the soldiers were mostly too drunk to realize we were even there. By the time they might've been aware of what was going on, they were dead."

There was a knock on the door. Mrs. Lovett had been caught up so much in the story that the unexpected sound made her almost jump.

"Enter," Sweeney said, not loosening his reassuring embrace.

"Dinner is ready in fifteen minutes," Mrs. Clint said as she opened the door to the parlor.

He simply nodded his head and the housekeeper closed the door again. Mrs. Lovett was vaguely aware of her state of undress and she had no idea whether Mrs. Clint had seen the discarded dress on the floor or noticed that the baker wasn't wearing much beneath the barber's jacket, but she didn't really care.

"Our own ship was heavily damaged because of the earlier battle. The other ship was in a better state, so the captain decided to take the French ship to return to England," the barber said, continuing the story as if he hadn't been interrupted at all. "A little more than the half of the original crew was still alive and enough of them were healthy enough to sail the ship. Luckily enough, the ship's doctor hadn't been killed or wounded, and he could tend to the injured, me included."

The announcement of a meal had made the baker realize once again how hungry she was, but even though her stomach was grumbling once again, she forgot about it almost as soon as Sweeney began to talk again.

"My leg hurt more than anything I had experienced before, even during the first years in the colony. I was mostly worried about Lee however. He had been shot in the chest and although the doctor said that there were no organs or veins hit, the bullet was stuck in his body. There weren't enough supplies on board to treat each crew member and on a moving ship it wasn't safe to operate either way. So Lee was one of the unlucky ones. He had to wait for proper care until the ship was back in England and he and crew members in a similar situation could be brought to a real hospital. We sailed back to London as quickly as we could, but as we reached it after a little less than a week, Lee was almost dead already."

The barber swallowed audibly. Mrs. Lovett tensed, sensing what he was going to say next.

"After a few days in the hospital, a letter from Lee's neighbor arrived, announcing that his wife had died. By then however it was clear that there was no way that Lee could survive his wounds. The news of his wife's death only sped up the time that he still had. He was torn. He wanted to die, to be reunited with his wife, whom he loved very much. But at the same time, he wanted to survive, to stay alive to look after his daughter. He had told me often enough that there was no other remaining family to look after her, that he would raise her himself as soon as he was free to leave the navy. But eventually, it didn't matter. He didn't have a choice – the decision was made for him by the man who had shot him in the chest."

Mrs. Lovett hadn't really understood why he was telling her about his friend. Although she felt that it was indeed a huge accomplishment for him to actually open up to another human being, let alone trust him as much as she felt that Mr. Todd had trusted the man who he had been talking about for quite a while now, she hadn't seen why it was important in the overview that he was giving her now of the life that he had lived when they had been apart.

But as she recalled that he had mentioned the blond haired girl who was soon to be an orphan, it was suddenly clear to the baker however what he was going to say.

"She's his daughter," she said, not fully aware that she was actually saying her thoughts out loud. "Victoria... she's Lee's daughter."

"She is," Sweeney replied, apparently not bothered that she had interrupted his narration. "When Lee knew that his wife had died and that he would follow her soon, and that there was no one else to protect his girl and look after her who he trusted enough to do so, he asked me to become her guardian. I didn't want to do such thing and I told him so. My life was at sea now and besides, I didn't want to be responsible for anyone, especially not for a young girl, the daughter of a man who had become very dear to me. I was still a fugitive, even though he didn't know this of course."

"But he persuaded you," she said. "Victoria wouldn't be here if he hadn't."

"Indeed. The decision wasn't fully mine at first. I had intended to return to the navy as soon as I was capable. I had no other purpose in life and although I hadn't actually enjoyed my time as a British soldier, the life I had built there for myself was much better than I had ever thought possible during the days I spent in London. There didn't pass a day that I didn't think about my wife and child several times at least, but it felt as if they didn't follow me any longer with every step I took, reminding me of how I had failed them. The injury of my leg however got infected in the hospital, even though it had started healing aboard the ship already. The wound got worse than it had been before. The surgeon had to cut out some pieces of flesh. He wasn't even sure whether I would be able to keep the leg; if the infection spread, he would have had to amputate it."

The barber's hand reached for his right leg, fingers touching the awful scar that Mrs. Lovett had seen earlier.

"The operation was successful. I recovered, but it would take a long time before I could walk properly again, let alone survive on a ship. I told myself for a while that this was the reason that I at last accepted Lee's request. But the truth was that even I couldn't ignore his last wish, whether I had been wounded or not, no matter how much I had been convinced that I had lost the capability to care about human beings. He died not long afterwards. I hardly had the chance to mourn him – when I woke up the next morning, Victoria was sitting at my bedside. Lee's neighbor had taken her with him to bring her to me while he himself came to collect Lee's body – he wanted to be buried next to his wife, in the cemetery of the village where they used to live."

As another silence fell, Mrs. Lovett's mind drifted back to something that Sweeney had said to her earlier that day. She hadn't fully realized then what he was saying – she had been rather preoccupied by what he was _doing _as well at that moment – but now she recalled what he had mentioned regarding Victoria's age. He had told her how old the girl was; her age made it impossible for her to be the barber's daughter, for he was still in the colony when Victoria had been born.

"That's why you said that she's twelve," she gasped, realizing now that he had tried to tell her much earlier that Victoria wasn't actually his daughter, which she had thought – and feared – for quite a while. "I thought..."

"What?" he asked, seemingly still not bothered that she interrupted the story that was clearly for him still difficult and painful to tell.

"Sorry," she said, realizing that she had once again talked when she probably shouldn't have done so. "I just thought that... that she was your daughter."

She almost added how shocked she had been when she had thought that Mr. Todd had conceived a child with another woman – a child that should've been hers after all the time that she had longed for him, had looked after him, risking her own life by doing so. She almost told him how utterly disappointed and saddened she had been when she had been convinced that he had found another woman to share his life with, to have his child, such a short time after he had discarded her as if she wasn't even a human being.

Before she could say anything however that she would regret later, there was another knock on the door.

"Dinner's ready," Mrs. Clint called, not bothering to open the door to the parlor this time.

"Shall we?" the barber asked, gesturing towards a room that lay beyond the area they were currently in. The baker vaguely recalled seeing a kitchen there when she had entered the house earlier that day.

"Sounds good," she said, hoping that her voice didn't betray how much exactly she was longing for a proper meal – and that the hungry sounds that her stomach was making weren't too obvious either.

She stood up carefully, making sure not to touch his leg in any way. While doing so, his vest slid off her shoulders, reminding her that her actual dress was still lying on the floor.

Mrs. Lovett picked it up, knowing that she couldn't possibly appear in her corset at the dinner table. She tried to put it on as quickly as she could, but doing so was more difficult than she had thought. She couldn't see the strings at the back and although this usually wasn't a problem, it was more difficult to tie the fabric now because she wasn't familiar with this dress any longer and because she couldn't suppress the shake of her hands any longer; just like the rest of her body, they were weak with malnutrition that was worse than ever just before the promised meal.

"Let me help you."

Before she knew it, Sweeney was behind her, tying the laces of her corset, fingers brushing against his skin. She had no idea whether the touches were accidental or that he caressed her on purpose, but the brushes of his hands left her trembling with more than just hunger either way.

Even though he was dressing her instead of taking her clothes off like she had been so eager for him to do earlier, she enjoyed his touch very much indeed. If anything, she was pleased of the events of the second half of that afternoon. The barber and she had spent it in quite a different way than she had expected earlier, but she didn't really mind.

Although her being had craved his intimate touch, especially now that she had partly found out how much pleasure he could bring her, she realized only now how much she had missed it just to talk to somebody. She had Teddy, of course, but communicating with him couldn't be compared to speaking to another adult, especially when he was Sweeney Todd himself.

Especially not because the barber was a man who she loved and trusted, no matter what. Now that he seemed to share those feelings to at least some extent, it was delightful indeed just to talk to him, their bodies touching innocently as he shared the events of his recent life with her.

But no matter how pleased she was to have heard the first part of his story and how eager she was to hear more about Victoria and the rather bizarre turns that his life had taken, food was the only thing she could think of in that moment. Guided by the barber's hand on the small of her back, she headed for the kitchen, where Teddy and Victoria were already waiting for them.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

When the barber and the baker approached the kitchen, they were greeted by the smell of the dinner that Mrs. Clint had prepared for that evening. It was a smell unlike anything Nellie had known for a very long time. It vaguely reminded her of the meals that her mother used to cook when she was just a little girl, in an age where they hadn't lived in London yet and three proper meals a day were still normal. Even when the baker had had enough money to afford such meals again, she had never had the time to prepare them – and it was not as if she was actually hungry after another day of chopping up human bodies anyway.

There was something about that smell that made her stop dead in her tracks. If Mr. Todd hadn't been paying such close attention to her, he would've collided with her.

Mrs. Lovett breathed in deeply, the delicious scent so unfamiliar that she had almost forgotten what it was like to smell something that she actually wanted to eat, something that she could enjoy even if she wouldn't be so hungry as she was now.

The realization that a part of this food was apparently meant for _her _made her body come back to life. She was strangely aware of how her weakened muscles readied themselves, preparing to rush to the table and fill the stomach that hadn't known a decent meal for a very long time. And judging from the smell that reached her nose already, this smell was going to be a lot more than simply 'decent'.

Just when she was about to move forward, to step into the kitchen at last, her entire being focused on nothing but the food that was awaiting her, she was stopped by something.

Confused for a moment, her distracted mind not being aware any longer of what was going on around her, she tried to set another step. Again she didn't move forward. Only then she realized that there was a very good reason for this; Mr. Todd's arm was wrapped around her waist, preventing her from entering the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice a lot harsher than she intended it to be.

"The two of us will have dinner alone," Sweeney said, addressing Mrs. Clint as she entered the kitchen, carrying a large bowl of cuts of freshly baked bread with her.

At the sight of even more food, Mrs. Lovett struggled against the solid grasp of Mr. Todd's arms. She was somewhat aware that her behavior was far from appropriate and that this was the last thing that she wanted in the barber's company, but she couldn't care less about such things as the hunger that had followed her for years and had especially tormented her during the past few weeks, completely caught up with her out of nowhere. It seemed to force her to make up for all the uncomfortable hours that she had forced herself to ignore the hunger that racked her already petite frame.

She was hardly aware of Sweeney's voice, as all her attention was focused on the bowl that was filled completely with bread that looked better than anything that she had eaten for a very long time.

"Come with me," he said, but she didn't even hear him, even though there was an authority in his voice that would've made her nervous only minutes ago.

"Mum!" Teddy yelled, noticing what was going on. "What's wrong?"

She did hear her nephew, his voice only slightly stronger than the feeling within her that drew her towards the table on which so much food was just waiting to be eaten. She couldn't answer him however, just shook her head as if to dismiss his worry.

"Victoria," Mr. Todd said, addressing the girl who was looking at the scene that was enfolding in front of her with wide eyes.

As far as the baker was aware he didn't say anything else to the girl, but she stood up, taking an empty bowl from the table and filling it with large spoonfuls op soup that turned out to be in the large pan that was standing in the middle of the table.

There was something about the sight of that deliciously smelling soup that made her desire to _eat _even more unbearable and her frustration with Mr. Todd's actions even greater. She had no idea why he was holding her like this, preventing her from properly eating at last.

She tugged at his arm, trying to break free, but it was no use. The barber usually was much stronger than her to begin with, and especially now that she was so weak with hunger, she was no match for him.

Mrs. Clint seemed to realize what was going on now as well, even though the baker herself didn't understand at all what was happening, why everybody was acting so frantically after Mr. Todd had addressed his ward. His housekeeper took another empty plate and filled it with large slices of bread, taking them from the huge bowl that she had carried into the kitchen earlier.

"She'll be all right," she heard Sweeney vaguely say to Teddy, who had stood up, looking at the barber as if he wanted to break his aunt free himself.

The baker didn't know how this situation could be 'all right' as long as he didn't allow her to eat.

"Let me _go," _she growled, large eyes focused on the food that was being rearranged right in front of her eyes now.

"Soon," he simply said.

Before she knew what was happening, he had lifted her up, simply taking her in his arms as if she weighted nothing at all - which wasn't far from reality.

He carried her back into the parlor. Mrs. Lovett struggled with the power that she still possessed, a strange kind of despair taking over her as he took her away from the food that she had just seen and smelled. Food that she had almost tasted already, food that could free her from the dull emptiness within her, from the throbbing inside her stomach that reminded her night and day that she couldn't go on like this for much longer.

"You'll get as much to eat as you want," he said, holding her tightly even as he placed her back on her feet.

The girl and the woman followed them and Teddy trailed behind him, obviously shocked by what he was witnessing.

As soon as she was standing again however, he made her sit down next to him on the carpet in his parlor, right between the largest couch and the table on which Victoria and Mrs. Clint placed the bowl and plate that they had filled moments ago.

"We'll eat here alone," Sweeney said again.

Victoria nodded and followed Mrs. Clint, who was already heading back to the kitchen. Teddy was still standing in the parlor however, looking at his aunt with big, worried eyes.

"He will take care of her," Victoria said, noticing the boy's distress.

Teddy looked at her before his gaze returned to the baker. He didn't seem to be very inclined to believe her, let alone to let his aunt go out of his sight.

"She's in good hands," the girl added, placing her arm around the boy's shoulders.

Teddy blinked, surprised by the gesture, and then nodded, trusting Victoria implicitly.

If Mrs. Lovett would've been aware of it, she would've been proud of the way he controlled himself and she would've been fascinated by the way that he listened to the older girl. The baker's world however was reduced to the food that was standing on the table in front of her now, just out of her reach, and the two strong arms that prevented her from moving towards the steaming soup and deliciously smelling bread.

The boy and the girl left the parlor as well, leaving the barber and the baker alone there, closing the door behind them.

Mrs. Lovett tried to free herself once again, but this attempt was in vain as well. She was more frustrated by this than ever before, the food that was right in front of her driving her wild because it was just out of her reach.

"I had no idea you were in such a bad situation," Sweeney said, but she hardly realized. "If I would've known..."

She wriggled her body against the barber's, not ceasing her attempt to break free now that he was talking to her. Mr. Todd groaned, but she wasn't aware that it had much more to do with the way she moved her body against his own than any actual discomfort that she caused.

"You're starving," he said, and she would've rolled her eyes because of the statement that was so completely redundant in her own ears if it hadn't been for her lacking capability to understand what he was actually saying. "You want to eat now as much as you can and the reason that I won't let you is that you'll get sick if you will. Your stomach is not accustomed to good meals any longer and you'll regret it later when you'd eat now as much as you usually would."

"I don't _care_," she muttered, the soup and bread seeming to be mocking her now from their place on the table, mere inches away from her reaching hands.

"You will," he said, managing to speak even though the baker's body tormented his own. "Believe me, I would know. Besides, this bread comes straight from the oven and Mrs. Clint took the soup from the fire only moments ago. If you eat it now, you'll certainly burn your mouth and I don't want that to happen – and neither do you."

Mrs. Lovett began to see that listening to him and doing what he said was the only way to actually reach the food that was standing so deceptively close to her, but what he was saying to her didn't make much sense to her. She wanted to eat the glorious food that was standing in front of her eyes and she didn't care about anything else at that moment.

"If I would've known how hungry you were, I would've made sure you could get something to eat as soon as we left Fleet Street. You managed to hide however very well what you needed the most – but you've always been rather good at that."

There was a hint of admiration in his voice and although this was something that she basically had been willing to kill for in the past, she didn't even notice it now.

The only thing that was of importance was that he reached for the plate filled with slices of bread that she had been so desperate to touch herself. He took one piece and even as he did so, the baker reached for it as well, trying to get it in her own hands.

"I know it's difficult, but try to be _patient_. I'm trying to help."

"That would be a first," the baker growled, the frustration that he was causing now mixing with the desperation that she had experienced for years because of his incapability to return her feelings for him, or even acknowledge them.

The barber was perfectly quiet for a long moment as she said those words. He neither replied to her outburst or – which she found much worse – moved the slice of bread closer to her. It didn't even enter her mind that he might be hurt by what she just had said.

"Maybe you should try getting used to it," he said at length, "for I don't intend this to be the last time."

The words were meaningless to her, both her eyes and her being solely fixed on the bread that he was holding, moving it closer to both of them. He extended his arm however when she attempted to take it from her again. To her bewilderment, he began moving the bread in the air, seemingly waving it at random.

"What are you _doing_?" she hissed, wondering whether he had gone mad after all, doing such strange things with the bread that she wanted – _needed_ - to eat. Maybe he had decided to punish her after all for what she had indirectly done to Lucy – maybe all the care and affection he seemed to have showed towards her had been nothing but a hallucination, caused at least partly by the lack of food. Either way, she had to had the food that he was withholding from her.

"You can't eat this while it's still so hot," he simply said. "I'm trying to cool it down."

It was in her eyes a ridiculous statement and the feeling that the barber wasn't who he had been pretending to be after all grew stronger within her. There was nothing she could do however now that she was sitting on the floor of his parlor with the two arms wrapped tightly around her.

After a moment that could've been either a few minutes or a few hours long, he managed to tear the slice of bread into several smaller pieces, using his legs to keep her body trapped against his own. The baker could only stare as he tore the slice apart, wondering if this was another, ultimate attempt to make her suffer in exchange for the grief she had caused him by not telling him the truth about his wife.

Mrs. Lovett almost began to expect that the barber would throw the remains of the bread on the floor or into the fire next, if only to show her how much power he had over her, that he could starve her to death in this very room if he wanted to do so.

Instead of doing so however, he handed her one of the small pieces of bread. For a moment the baker didn't even believe that he was doing so, staring at the food as if it was some sort of trick that would make her situation even worse.

Her mind snapped out of this soon as pure instinct took over. She snatched the piece of bread out of his hand and stuffed it into her mouth, swallowing it almost immediately, if only to make sure that he couldn't take it away from her anymore.

"Chew," he said, but he might as well not have spoken at all.

When he offered her a second piece, and a third, she eat it in the same way, the bread hardly touching the inside of her mouth before it was swallowed already.

It doubtlessly was delicious bread – something that smelled so good couldn't possibly taste any less. The bread's taste was the last thing that the baker was aware of however, even though a part of her mind was yelling at her to savor this now that she actually had the chance.

But mostly, she simply wanted to _eat_, to fill her empty stomach with anything that was only somewhat edible, to make up for some of the time that she had lived with ever present hunger.

When she had eaten all the pieces that until recently had formed one slice of bread, Mr. Todd gave her no more. The baker gave a frustrated huff, but the majority of the despair that she had felt earlier had disappeared now that she had slaked at least some of her hunger.

As Sweeney took another slice of bread from the plate, tearing it to pieces just like he had done with the first part, she became more aware of what was going on around her. She found herself sitting on the floor of his parlor, the thick carpet that was beneath her making this a rather comfortable experience. Mr. Todd was sitting right behind her, his back resting against the large couch that was right behind him. The baker herself was leaning against Sweeney, his legs and arms surrounding her, something of which she hadn't really been aware of before.

"More," she said, "I need more."

"I know," he replied. "You will have more. But not too fast. You'll throw up later this evening if you eat so much in a short period of time, and you'll get painful cramps."

The baker was inwardly still screaming with indignation, but a part of her had to admit now that there might be some truth to the barber's words.

"Try to chew," he said as he gave her a new piece of breath after a long minute.

This time, she did as he told her. Obeying him was easier now that she wasn't as desperate to eat as she had been before any longer. Just like he had predicted, eating was much more pleasant now that she was actually aware of the structure and taste of the bread that she was so eager to eat. She could somehow appreciate the bread now as more than just a way to fill her stomach at last. She still ate too fast to truly taste it, but her senses were aware now that the bread was delicious indeed.

The rest of that second slice of bread followed in a similar fashion. The baker relaxed slowly as she ate at last, and so did the grasp of the barber around her.

He let go off her as she had eaten the second slice of bread entirely. It surprised her; she was actually somewhat disappointed because of it. No matter how frustrating and humiliating it had been to be captured in the cage that his body had formed around her, she had enjoyed his physical closeness when his grasp had relaxed without being fully aware of it.

The barber stayed close to her however. He remained sitting where he was, still letting her lean back against him. There was nothing intimidating about his presence any longer and she wondered what had happened to her to make her so suspicious of him only moments ago. Even the memories of the most recent past were somehow vague now that she had finally eaten. She couldn't fully remember what she had said or done, and she could only hope that she hadn't embarrassed herself.

"Take another one," he said quietly, giving her another slice of bread, this time without reducing it to smaller pieces. "But take small bites, and don't forget to chew."

It didn't bother her that he was talking to her in a way she would address Teddy when he wasn't eating his food properly, in a usually rather feeble attempt to teach the boy some manners. She didn't feel like a child however when Mr. Todd was talking to her like that. If anything, she felt grateful that he cared enough to protect her against herself, to help her with a situation that he probably had had much experience himself after having lived in the colony for so long.

She brought the slice of bread to her mouth, taking a small bite just like the barber had said. It was much easier to do so now that most of her initial hunger was satisfied and the urge to eat wasn't overpowering her any longer. She could also appreciate the actual taste of the bread now. Just like she had vaguely thought when she had smelled it for the first time, it was unlike anything she had ever eaten, not even when she had been able to afford proper food.

It tasted like ordinary bread – well made bread, with good and fresh ingredients – but at the same time there was something about it that made it unlike any other bread she had ever eaten. Maybe there were some sort of spices in it that gave the bread its unique taste, Mrs. Lovett didn't know. She might ask Mrs. Clint or Sweeney himself later, but for now she was more than content just to eat the bread.

Eating wasn't something she usually paid much attention to. Mostly she refused to think about it too much, because it was an activity of which she often couldn't be sure how or when it would be repeated. Every once in a while she had taken a small pie or a piece of bread from the bakery where she had worked for years, refusing to call it stealing because that word just didn't seem right to her when her own life was at stake. But when the owner had caught her in the act, she hadn't dared doing so any longer, no matter how hungry she was and how much the freshly bakes items tempted her. She truly couldn't afford to lose the job – but eventually she had anyway, simply because the bakery closed after it had gone bankrupt, just like so many other small stores.

But even when she had had enough money to buy enough food to feed herself properly, in a past long ago when the barber had still lived with her, eating was something that she had done in a hurry, because other and more pressing matters had always awaited her.

Right now however there were no pies that had to be baked or bodies that needed to be chopped up. Now, she simply was too tired to wonder whether there was a chance she would have another such a wonderful meal in the barber's house the next day. So she simply relaxed and enjoyed the moment, eating relatively slowly while the barber was physically supporting her body with his own.

When she had eaten the slice of bread, she'd like to have another one. As her stomach began to process the rich food, the hunger that she had felt for so long that she hadn't really been aware of it until she had been confronted with the large quantity of food in the kitchen in Mr. Todd's house, began to fade completely at last. She took another slice of bread because she wanted it, not because she needed it. To her surprise, the barber let her, not saying anything when she began to eat the next slice of the loaf.

As this part of the bread was gone as well, the baker didn't take another one. She just remained sitting where she was, feeling perfectly at ease sitting on the floor with the barber close to her. She was content in a way of which she wasn't sure she had ever experienced before.

The barber moved and although she had distrusted him so much only moments ago, she kept sitting still when he reached for her instead of the food that was still standing on the table in front of them.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied. "It's just that I... I hadn't had such a meal for a long time. You were right when you said that I had to be careful. I'm sorry that I..."

Sweeney simply hushed her, apparently not interested in her apology.

"Hunger makes us do strange things," was all he said. "I've found this out myself and I don't blame you for anything."

Mrs. Lovett sighed, relieved. The hand that the barber had extended to her came, much to her surprise, to rest on her stomach. She had no idea why he touched her like that, but she found the gesture to be strangely comforting.

"Thank you," she said again, referring this time to more than just his worry for her.

She felt however that the words didn't fully contain all the gratitude that she felt for the way he was taking care of her now, supporting her as if he had done so for a long time already, as if it was only normal that he took care of her like this. One would almost forget that it had been the other way around for a long time. She wondered for a moment whether he was making up for that, whether he was thanking her now in kind.

Before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she found herself reaching for him as well. Her own hand rested on the one of his that was on her stomach and he took her hand in his own almost immediately.

The barber and the baker sat like that for a long time. No words were said, but the usually talkative woman didn't mind at all. His thumb caressed the skin of the hand that he was holding and Mrs. Lovett sighed contently.

"Do you want some soup?" he asked after a few lazy and quiet minutes.

The baker considered the question for a moment. She wasn't feeling hungry any longer, but she probably would be again soon. And even if she wouldn't, it wouldn't hurt to eat more than she actually wanted to now, just in case. It was a lesson she had repeated to herself very often throughout the years; it seemed strange to ignore this now that she for once had the chance to really eat more than she needed at a particular moment.

"That would be lovely."

He let go off her hand and although this was a small disappointment, she didn't pay too much attention to it. The way he gently pushed against her back, helping her to sit up, made clear to her that the contact that had just ended wasn't a mere coincidence or accident; it really seemed now that she no longer had to savor even the smallest bit of his attention because the times that moments like that might as well be the last time he ever touched her, had passed after all.

She sat up, getting closer to the low table on which the remaining bread and the pan of still clearly warm soup was standing. Mr. Todd took a spoon from somewhere behind her and gave it to her; she didn't even want to know how he had managed to have taken it from the kitchen. He remained sitting behind her, declining against the front of the couch once more, but she sensed that he shifted a little to the right, so he could see her even though her back was still facing her.

The thought that he was watching her eat was a strange but not unpleasant one. She could almost feel how his eyes were taking her in, but there was nothing threatening or judgmental in his gaze. It didn't even make her nervous; to her it was a good sign that he was looking at her like this even now that she was eating.

The temperature of the soup was perfect, just like its taste. Although she couldn't actually recall seeing the barber eat, not even now, it seemed only normal somehow that all the food in his house was of the highest quality – she hadn't expected the soup to be any different. There was nothing special or exotic about it, except for the fact that it was exceptionally well made. Mrs. Lovett happily took spoonful after spoonful of the tomato soup, especially savoring the large chunks of vegetables in it and the actual pieces of meat.

When she had eaten as much out of the large bowl as she wanted, she intended to move backwards, so she could lean against the couch just like the barber was doing. She could certainly use another lazy moment; she was filled with food in a way of which she had forgotten what it was like, but not in a uncomfortable way.

As she did so however, the barber moved as well, causing her to move right against him. She automatically opened her mouth to apologize, if only because she was still so used to a barber who didn't liked to be touched, especially not in such a way. Before she had the chance, he embraced her once again from behind, pulling her against him.

Realizing that the collision wasn't an accident at all, the baker gladly surrendered to his hug, the gesture still so new and unexpected that it exhilarated her. His body more comfortable to her than any couch or chair would ever be, she leaned back against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder.

She still half expected him to push her away from him, to be horrified by the liberties she was taking with his person, but none of this happened, making clear to her once more that the barber had indeed changed a lot.

"You aren't very well, are you?"

The question caught her off guard. No one had asked her so directly how she was doing – ever. Not to mention that no one had ever implied such things about her health and situation with only a few words. The fact that Mr. Todd was the one doing so only made it more unusual, but that's why she appreciated even more. She didn't blame him for the suggestive question; in retrospect, it must've been obvious to him that she wasn't as well as she pretended to be – the way she reacted when she had entered the kitchen earlier had probably only confirmed his suspicion.

"No, I'm not well."

All the intentions she had had earlier to hide the true despair of her situation from him were gone. It seemed only foolish now to deceive him. He had been very honest with her so far – or at least, she was rather convinced that he had been – and she felt that she could trust, even with this. There was no longer any shame in admitting that life hadn't been as kind to her as to the man who lived a life of luxury now but who had almost been unable to make his own tea when he had lived with her.

For a long time, there was no reply. Instead of talking, his hands caressed her arms and shoulders, telling her with those touches that he was sorry for what had happened to her, that he hadn't been there to support her.

"What happened to you?"

There was no judgment in his voice when he spoke at last, not even a slight hint of amusement that her unfortunate situation as far as he was aware of it now might've caused. There was only curiosity that he didn't try to conceal, and most of all she was aware of the genuine interest and worry that was clearly audible when he spoke.

She trusted him now, relied on him not to ridicule her for what had happened to her now that his life had turned out so much better than her own. And so she told him everything.

The baker spoke freely of the fear and sadness she had felt when he had almost managed to throw her into an oven – emotions that had haunted her since that day. How she had fled as far away from London as she could, not even knowing where she was actually going. She told him that she had gone to Newcastle after a few particularly unpleasant months spent hiding in various towns and cities in the north of the country. Having told them that her husband had died recently and that she was tired of London anyway, her sister and the merchant she was still married to welcomed her in their own family. There was no reason for them not to believe her. When the rumors of the demon barber and baker reached Newcastle, Mrs. Lovett had always ensured both of them that she and Albert had moved away from Fleet Street long before and that she hadn't even heard of the horrendous murders until the moment that her sister had brought the stories up.

The family hadn't been a rich one. Although her brother-in-law's store had been successful at one point, times were hard in this part of England as well. Profits went down until they were almost nonexistent and Mrs. Lovett's sister had been forced to quit her job in the store, beginning to work as a servant for some of the few people who could still afford such things. Nellie herself found work in a large bakery. The pay was low and her boss was an unpleasant man, especially in the baker's eyes, who had been used to be her own employer and do whatever she wanted to in her own shop. Those days were over however and she had to do now whatever was necessary to contribute to the household that she had become part of.

When Mrs. Lovett was talking, the barber locked his hands in front of her. She was technically trapped against him once again, but she only felt safe and protected when he was holding her like that. Telling the story to him was easier than she had thought. The years of her life that she was currently describing hadn't been that bad, but things had gotten much worse before long. Even as she had been actually experiencing them, she hadn't wanted to think of what she was going through, fearing that just the knowledge of her poverty was too much to take.

Even when she was describing those times to the barber in detail, she didn't feel as if the despair that she had felt back then could still reach her, even though she had feared the opposite. But it turned out to feel actually good to talk about it. The barber was a quiet but very attentive listener, the way he was holding her silently supporting her in a way she had never been before. It seemed to her as if he was her anchor that held her safely in place in a world that was so much better than the one she had left – for the time being, at least.

Just like Nellie herself, her sister had never had any children. Thus their surprise and delight was great when she found herself expecting a child at an age that most women lost this ability. They couldn't afford to look after a baby, not really, but her sister and her husband had been craving to have a child for almost as long as they were married. The two truly loved each other, even after all this years, and it was something that Nellie could hardly understand. She had never known such a marriage after all. The baker herself was enthusiastic about her sister's pregnancy as well; she was very fond of children and her heart still ached for the adoptive son that she had lost, just like the rest of her former life.

During the next year, Nellie's sister had become the proud mother of a healthy and beautiful son. They decided to name him Teddy. It wasn't a name that they had actually considered in advance and there wasn't anyone with a similar name in both their families, but all the names that they had thought of earlier simply seemed unsuitable when they had looked at the baby for the very first time, cheerful and mischievous even moments after he was born. Giving birth hadn't been an easy process however. The baker's sister wasn't young any longer, not quite as healthy and strong as she once had been, and she would never fully recover from the pain and suffering of the last phase of her pregnancy.

Years passed and although all the family's money was spent on rent and food, they got by. The new parents were ecstatic to have their son, who they loved more every day. They were too happy to notice that Nellie herself wasn't doing well. She certainly was very fond of the boy, treating him as if he were her own. Indeed, he was the closest thing she had ever had to a son, and would ever have. A part of her blood ran through his veins and she was one of his carers from the day that he was born.

But Teddy wasn't truly her son and it was something that she just couldn't forget, even though her sister insisted that she was part of the family now and that the baker was Teddy's mother too, as far as she was concerned. The newfound happiness of the family reminded her however of other parents that she had once lived with, so close to her but so far away at the same time. Once again she wasn't really part of the joy that others so close to her felt. It reminded her too much of what she had never had in the past, of what she couldn't have now – of all the things that were lost when the man who once had been Benjamin Barker had tried to kill her, even though most of those things had never been more real than the fantasies in her head.

The shadow of the memory of Sweeney Todd never left her. Whatever she did, wherever she went, he was with her – he might as well have actually followed her, eyes dark and razor drawn. More than anything, she feared that he'd come back. She didn't fear his anger – she found herself wondering more and more often whether it wouldn't have been better if she had just allowed him to kill her all those years ago. She was afraid of his rejection, for being forced to hear again that he would never love her, not even _like _her – that she would never be even slightly like the woman who he had chosen.

When another few unremarkable years had passed, her sister's husband had become ill. He died of consumption within a few months and he was followed soon by his wife, the grief of the loss of her husband being too much for her body, that had also been weakened by her pregnancy. The young Teddy, only a few years old, ended up in the care of his aunt.

The baker hadn't mind looking after the boy on her own from then on. She loved the child and he was very fond of her, and due to his age he forgot very soon that she wasn't his real mother. Paying for all the necessary expenses was a rapidly growing problem however. The three adults had managed to pay for the things that the four of them needed the most, but when Nellie was on her own, she had to ensure financial stability all by herself. But even when she had worked as much hours as she could possibly take – taking Teddy with her to the bakery, because he had no other place to go when she was working – and moved to the cheapest rooms that were available, it hadn't been enough.

Things had really gotten difficult however when the bakery where she had worked since her arrival in Newcastle was closed as well, due to the ever increasing prices of flour and other ingredients for the bread and pies that were needed. Mrs. Lovett hadn't been able to find work in another bakery; there were plenty of women out there who were younger and easier than she was and where thus preferred over her. When even the last money was gone, there had been only one possible solution for her: returning to London in the hope of finding work in one of the large bakeries that she had struggled to keep up with when she still had a pie shop of her own.

Mrs. Lovett was very much aware that she was telling all this now to the barber. But she found it impossible to stop talking. It was not as if she was unfamiliar with this, but usually she chattered about anything and nothing at all, if only to cover her true feelings. The thoughts that she shared now however were the most personal ones she had, experiences of which she had been sure that she would take them with her into her grave. She had always been certain that she would share them with nobody, let alone the barber himself, but now that she was talking to him after all, it seemed like the only natural thing to do.

"I never wanted to see you again," she said, staring at the still burning fire not far away from her as the barber's hands were entwined, resting on her stomach, "and at the same time, I felt that I couldn't live without you."

She turned around, wanting to look at the barber's face at last. It had been easier not to see him earlier, when she had poured out her deepest thoughts to him, but now she simply had to see him, if only to make sure that the expression on his face was as accepting as the rest of his body, that was soothing her even now.

She had expected to see the same unreadable expression that he usually wore. Instead, she found him looking at her with something in his eyes that could only be described as guilt.

He still hadn't told her how it could be that his opinion of her had changed so much, why he seemed to share her affectionate feelings now. She couldn't even be sure whether this really was the case. But either way, it was no longer true that she didn't want to see him again. She didn't truly know this man any longer – as far as she had ever actually known Sweeney Todd. But as he was holding her, she knew very well that she indeed could not live without him.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

After Mrs. Lovett had told the barber what had happened to her during the years that they had been apart, there was a long silence. She didn't mind however, even though she was curious to know what was going on in Sweeney's mind now that he knew what her life had been like.

But she had gotten used to not knowing what Mr. Todd was thinking and she didn't have much trouble with that in the current situation. The way he was holding her spoke of regret and sympathy, of apologies he would possibly never make. It seemed to her as if wanted to make up to her somewhat by protecting her – not just now, but forever.

That thought was an irrational one indeed. There was no way for her to be entirely sure that he had her best interest in mind at the current moment, let alone for time that was still to come. But she craved to think that he would never abandon her again, that he would be at her side now, that she never had to face the world all by herself again.

As they were sitting together, she continued leaning against him and it felt to her that he was supporting so much more than just her body. Making herself more comfortable, she tilted her head back further to rest it on his shoulder. There had been days that even she would've thought twice about exposing her throat to him like that, but now she did so without hesitation, even though she knew that one of the razors that he had once trusted more than anything else was still within his reach.

There had been perhaps no better opportunity for him to kill her than the one he was having now. It would be perfect – he had earned her complete trust, had made her feel more at ease than she had been in a very long time, and his house was currently even more quiet and abandoned than the alley where they had been earlier that day. She was rather sure that he would've considered this to be the perfect revenge for long years, to use her own feelings and weaknesses for him against her.

There were no hands around her throat however, no knife between her ribs. All he did was move his arms around her again, his entwined hands resting on her now filled stomach. Perfectly content, the baker placed her hands on his own, surprised by the warmth she felt in them. It almost seemed to her as if Mr. Todd was getting back to life now that she was as well.

It was at that moment that she realized that she had no idea what he called himself these days. It was very unlikely that he was still referring to himself as Sweeney Todd – that way he probably wouldn't be sitting there with her. When she had lived in Newcastle, she had went back to using her maiden name, insisting to her sister that she no longer wished to carry her late husband's name now that he was dead, leaving her with nothing but debts and his name.

She didn't know however to what extent the barber had changed his identity again. No one in the house had addressed him with his actual name, or at least, not as far as she could remember. If they would've had, she probably would've remembered it. The name he used for himself was nothing more than that – a name – but she felt the urge to know it. It seemed only appropriate that she would know what to call him now that they were together like this.

"Did you change your name again when you became a soldier?"

"I did," he said, after a short moment of consideration. "And I didn't."

"What kind of answer is that?"

She wasn't in the mood for games, not now that she was feeling content in a way that she had not often done before. Sensing this, his next answer was a much more serious one.

"Barker."

"_Barker?_"

In spite of the sternness of his voice, she thought for a moment that he was fooling her. She had expected a lot of different names – except for the _real _one, the name that had been his when he had known nothing of the tragedies and pain that would be inflicted upon him later in his life.

"It seemed suitable. I had become Sweeney Todd to avenge my family. When that was completed and I couldn't be him any longer, I had to transform myself into someone else. But there was no one else. I eventually realized that I hadn't changed as much as I had always thought. The anger and hate for Turpin had altered who I was, but hadn't changed me into a completely new person who was immune to pain and suffering. When the Judge was dead at last and I allowed myself to _feel_, the absence of my wife and child hurt just as much as when I had still been Benjamin Barker. And especially when my anger began to fade, I couldn't deny to myself any longer that Sweeney Todd had never been more than a creation of my own mind to become the person I had to be in order to take vengeance."

Mrs. Lovett considered those words carefully. She had never really thought about the barber's transformation that way. It made a lot of sense to her now though. She probably wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen him now, but almost since the moment she had met him again that day, he had seemed to be a combination of the two men that she had known him to be in earlier phases of his life.

"Benjamin Barker?" she asked, wondering whether he had picked up his old first name again as well.

She didn't fail to notice that the way she pronounced his name – hopeful, but with some suspicion – like she had done ten years ago, when he had stepped into her pie shop again for the very first time.

"I intended to. But after all what had happened, I wasn't truly Benjamin Barker anymore, just like I was no longer Sweeney Todd. I had become something that was in between them."

The baker nodded. She understood now; just like she had intuitively sensed earlier, the man who he was become – the man who he truly was – was somewhere in between the two extremes of his earlier life.

"Sweeney," she whispered, knowing now without having to ask what his current – his real – first name was.

"Yes," he replied. "That's right... Eleanor."

The baker shivered with delight when her first name rolled off his lips for the very first time, even though it wasn't the version of her name that she wanted to her.

"Do me a favor," she said, trying to sound as if she didn't truly care as long as he just kept talking to her like that, his voice light and almost... seductive. "I'm not _that _old. Please, call me Nellie."

"No indeed, you're not," he said, his voice alone making her tremble lightly, "Nellie."

She smiled broadly, ignoring the need to pinch her own arm to make sure that she wasn't lost in another daydream after all. She also closed her eyes, hoping with all what was left of her that there could be more moments like this – a whole lot more – because this what she had lived for for so long, never quite feeling believing that it would be ever be more than a fantasy.

"Sweeney," she said, just so she could say his name – his first name – and he could react to it.

"Nellie," he replied almost immediately.

The baker grinned. She felt like a child playing games – this wasn't much unlike Teddy's favorite when he had been a bit younger – but she couldn't care less. And neither did Sweeney, judging from the way he moved his head closer to hers, whispering her name in her ear.

They remained sitting like that. Mrs. Lovett wished that she had some sort of special kind of bottle to store this moment in, so she could keep it with her forever and experienced it again whenever she wished.

There was a mischievous little voice in the back of her head however, telling her that she perhaps wouldn't need such a bottle after all – because moments like this would be hers for the rest of her life.

It was something that she found difficult to believe however, no matter how much she wanted it to be true. But she could always hope, and she would do so – but not now. At this moment she was enjoying every second that she shared with the barber as much as she could, trying to remember as much of it as she could so she could at least carry the memory with her forever, no matter what was going to happen next.

"Do you still speak to Anthony?" the baker asked, suddenly recalling that there had happened more than murder during the last night that they had been together. "And your daughter? How is she?"

The atmosphere in the room changed as soon as she asked those questions. She regretted it for a moment – there could be nothing better than the almost playful and tempting moment that she had just shared with the barber – but she also knew very well that there was a lot that they needed to talk about if they actually wanted to grow closer to each other – and she most certainly did want that.

"I have to admit that I don't know," Sweeney said, the regret in his voice very clear. "Anthony never told me where he was going to take Johanna. I suspect that he would have, if I hadn't... well."

"What happened?"

Only now that he was talking about his daughter and the sailor, Mrs. Lovett fully realized that there were more people than just the barber and herself who must've fled London that night. It dawned on her that Anthony's quest to free Johanna Barker from the Judge must've come to an end that night as well – but she had never thought about it once during all those days that had passed since that night and she had no idea what had happened outside the bakehouse except for the seconds that it had taken her to race to the exit of the building, oblivious to everything except for her own fear.

"When I had killed Turpin and... Lucy, I found a boy hiding in the chest in my shop. Or at least, I thought that it was a boy. He – she – had seen, or at least heard, everything. I wanted to kill her, believing that the small person dressed in men's clothes was nothing but a boy who had been in my barber shop for a shave when Lucy had entered and had for some reason hidden in that chest. I saw her and intended to kill her, to make sure that she wouldn't go to the law. I would've killed her, if you hadn't screamed just before I was going to strike."

Mrs. Lovett didn't know yet why Mr. Todd was telling her this, what this had to do with his daughter. But the way he was tensing right behind her, his usually so blank voice now heavy with emotion, made it very obvious to her that what he was telling her now was important indeed.

"I left her there in the barber's chair to go back to the basement – back to you – to make sure that Turpin was truly dead. But when I ran out of the bakehouse later that night, I saw him – _her_ – together with Anthony. I didn't realize it then – I hardly noticed Anthony himself when I tried to get as far away from Fleet Street before the bodies would be found. Only later it became clear to me that the 'boy' that I almost killed must've been Johanna."

The baker gasped, only now realizing what had happened right above her head during that final night of killing.

"You saved my daughter's life," he said, his voice so soft now that she almost couldn't hear it. "If it hadn't been for you, she would've died that night. By my own hands."

There was so much emotion in his voice that it was for a moment difficult for Nellie to believe that this was indeed the former demon barber who was talking to her. But as two strong hands suddenly grasped her dress, turning her around abruptly even though she was sitting on the floor, there was no denying with whom she was dealing with.

She let out a scream of shock and surprise, the movements catching her completely off guard. Before she fully knew what was happening, the barber pulled her upper body closer to his own and almost forcefully moved his face to hide it in the crook of her neck.

Her mouth opened again but no sound came out when his head came to rest on her shoulder. She had no idea what to say or do; the barber had showed many sides of him that day already of which she had no idea that he still possessed them, but his current behavior was strange, even for his apparent new standards.

Only when his arms came around her once again, holding on to her now in an almost painful way, she realized what he was going on. Mr. Todd had been there for her as soon as he had found out that she had waited for him, just like she had promised. He had supported her in a way of which she had never thought possible, basically offering her his shoulder to cry on only moments ago.

But still, she had never thought that there would come a moment, in this life or the next, that Sweeney Todd would turn to _her _for comfort. But it was happening now and there was no time for the baker to verify whether this was actually happening, whether she wasn't asleep in her creaky bed in her tiny room far away from London after all. Intuitively, her arms went up, one coming to rest on the barber's back, caressing him in what she hoped was a soothing manner, and the other went in his hair, stroking it gently.

Mrs. Lovett had expected that the barber would withdraw as soon as he would feel somewhat better, when he was sure that he could control himself again. It was how she had always imagined moments like this; she was convinced that in the rare moment that he would allow her to support him like this, he would act as if it had never happened as soon as he was feeling relatively well again.

But even as he calmed down after several minutes, he didn't move away from her. He kept holding her, his nose so close to her neck that it was touching her skin. She tried to act as if this was normal, that it made perfect sense that he was trusting her so much to let his guard down like this when she was with him, but the baker herself felt rather nervous because of the way that he was acting.

She was afraid that she would accidentally do something wrong, to act in a way that would drive the barber away from her after all without being aware of it herself. Her hands ceased their strokes as she felt that the caresses would probably remind him that _she _was the one who was comforting him, and not the wife who was taken away from him long ago.

He made a small sound of disappointment and she thought for a second that this was indeed a sign that he didn't want to be with her like this. But then, much to her surprise, he reached for her hands, placing them back on his body.

Her breath hitched in her throat at this suggestion. Never in her life she would've thought that this would actually happen, that there would come a day that the barber made so explicitly clear to her that he wanted her to comfort him like this, that he trusted her enough to allow her to do so in this vulnerable state of his.

Mrs. Lovett was fully aware of the long sigh that he let out when her hands continued their ministrations on his back and that he held on to her more tightly. She closed her eyes as well, savoring the minutes of comfort that passed slowly.

"I used to look after Johanna," she said as her mind drifted back to the only light that had suddenly appeared into her life when the barber had been banished. "When you and Lucy were gone..."

The baker swallowed as she recalled those days. She had been both thrilled and horrified to look after the girl. She had always wanted to have children of her own, and Johanna was a very sweet girl. At the same time she was also afraid of taking care of a child, especially one as important as Johanna, because she had no experience whatsoever doing so. Whenever she looked at her, she had always both felt the urge to protect the last bit that was left of Benjamin Barker and the pain of knowing that she had wanted this child to be their own.

"Albert wasn't very pleased. I said to him that looking after her was the only decent thing to do and I managed to persuade him. He never had any idea that the most important reason that I wanted to look after Johanna was because of you."

"I never thought about that," Sweeney said after a long while. "I had always thought that the Judge had taken her as soon as..."

The barber's body tensed once again as he was reminded of the fate of his late wife.

"They came after a few weeks," Nellie said, answering his implicit question. "Albert had grown quite fond of your girl as well. We both had hoped that we could keep her. But there was nothing we could do. Albert even put up a fight, but there were too many policemen. Turpin must've been very... determined to get Johanna."

He actually shivered as he heard this, reminding him of a truth he wanted to be nothing more than a nightmare. Mr. Todd moved closer to her until he possible couldn't get any closer, his face rubbing against her neck and his chest pressed against her own. It was rather uncomfortable to sit on the floor like that, but Mrs. Lovett couldn't care less. As the barber's arms locked tightly around her back, she moved her own arms around his neck, hands twining in his hair to keep him this close to her.

"I never knew," he said eventually, his voice muffled by her own body. "I never thanked you."

"It's quite all right," she replied, moved by the sincere gratitude, "you had a lot more pressing things on your..."

He yanked himself away from her, leaving the baker feeling bereft. A second later however his mouth was pressed against hers and she found herself kissing the barber once more, his need washing over her.

His kiss was suspiciously salty but when they broke apart after a few breathless minutes, there wasn't a sign of tears in his eyes. There was only an expression of want as he looked at her, his breath labored and his hands resting on her hips.

If she wanted a moment to finish at last what they had started twice earlier that day, this was her chance. She could do anything to the barber now; she strongly felt that he would accepted whatever she wanted at this moment as long as it distracted him from the pain of his lost family.

Mrs. Lovett had been desperate for a change like this for a very long time indeed. But as the barber was looking at her, gaze even moving down to her heaving chest, she had the feeling that it was wrong for them to give in to their desire for each other now. In a way, she would take advantage of him and the state that he was in now and besides, she needed him to want _her_, and not something that could distract him from the memories that haunted him.

There had been times that she would've had scolded herself for being so critical in such a situation, but in those days moments like this had never actually taken place and she hadn't truly believed that something like this could be possible anyway.

When he reached for her again, his lips moving towards hers once more and a hard gaze of determination in his eyes, the baker moved away from him. She leaned back only a few inches, but he understood. His gaze darkened for a moment, but then he nodded slowly and sighed, a sound that made her heart ache with sympathy.

His body almost collapsed, as if not just all the bones but his life as well had been taken out of it. Mrs. Lovett was still very close to him and caught him, making sure that he didn't hurt himself. Not knowing what else to do, she guided his head into her lap, making sure that he was at least comfortable.

Mr. Todd wrapped his arms around her waist even as he buried his face in the fabric of her skirt, making sure that she wouldn't leave him. It was not that she was planning to do anything of the sort, but when she saw how he clung to her, she couldn't help but wonder how long and how much he had longed to do this. Seeing him like this, it didn't seem so strange to think that he had waited for a long time without hope, just like she had done.

His shoulders were shaking slightly. He might be crying after all, but even if he did, she sensed that he wouldn't show her, such a proof of his vulnerability to much for him to share with her even now. But it was all right with her that he didn't want to share all his emotions with her; she was more than happy that he was allowing her to see him like this in the first place.

"Johanna _did_ escape," she said as several minutes had passed, interrupted by nothing but the few quiet, ambiguous sounds that were coming from the barber. "And Anthony is with her. He seemed like a good lad. I'm sure he'll take good care of her. They're probably far away from London – perhaps even from England. And let's face it... after all what she has been through in her young years, life can only get better for now."

"That's what I'm telling myself," the barber replied, turning his head slightly.

When she could see his face again, it seemed in the dim light of the parlor as if there were a few wet spots on his cheek. Mrs. Lovett couldn't see it clearly, but it wasn't of much importance to her. He seemed to feel better now, and that was all what mattered to her.

"But I can't be sure and I feel as if I can only stop worrying about her when I'm entirely sure that she's happy now."

"Sometimes it's better not to know," the baker found herself saying.

Mr. Todd considered those words for a moment, looking intently at her as if he could his answer somehow that way. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he closed it again and nodded.

He didn't seem entirely convinced, but the baker would've been surprised if he was. Sweeney seemed to relax again at last however and that's what she found most important.

"What about Toby?"

Mrs. Lovett sighed when she heard the name of the boy who she had looked after as if he were her own son. She may have Teddy now, but the other boy that she once had looked after never was out of her thoughts for a long time.

"I don't know. He must've still been hiding in the bakehouse when I left."

"When I left, I didn't see him either. He was probably hiding in the sewers."

"Probably," Mrs. Lovett said, having thought the same thing as well. But again, she couldn't be sure about it.

"He probably escaped not long after we did. No doubt he was horrified by what he must've seen, but he's still young. Those memories should be nothing but a bad dream by now."

"I hope so," she said, guilt overwhelming her when she thought of Toby.

"Don't worry about him, Nellie. He's a practical boy. He'll have found a way. He's probably married to a beautiful woman by now, someone just as caring as him. Perhaps he even has children of his own."

"You never liked him," the baker said, for a moment more aware of the barber's feelings for the boy than his actual words.

"True. But you did."

Mrs. Lovett couldn't help but smile. It meant a lot to her that Sweeney was trying to make her feel better, even now that he was worrying about his own daughter so much.

"You should try not to think about it too much," he said after a while. "It only hurts you and doesn't change anything."

"That's a strange advice, coming from you."

The words themselves were quite harsh, but there was nothing but gentleness in her voice as she spoke them.

"I'm speaking out of experience," he replied, his words just as soft.

"And so am I."

He sighed, nodding again. Mrs. Lovett had never thought that there would come a day that Mr. Todd would openly accept that she was right about something and he was not, but even though such a situation was something that she secretly had looked forward to very much indeed, she couldn't enjoy it at all now that it was happening after all.

"Let us speak of it no more," he said.

"That's probably for the best."

Both of them were quiet. Mrs. Lovett wasn't thinking of the boy she had lost any longer however and if the way he was looking at her was any indication, Mr. Todd wasn't worrying about Johanna anymore either.

Only now that both of them didn't speak and their minds weren't wandering somewhere far away, where the loved ones that weren't them with them any longer might be, the baker realized that it was now fully dark outside. The fire that was burning in the hearth was now the only source of light in the parlor and although it was quite dark, she felt that it suited their situation quite well.

Sweeney Todd made himself comfortable where he was, resting his head on her thigh in such a way that he could look up at her. There was a sparkle in his eyes and even though the baker didn't know whether this was only an illusion created by the flames not far away from them, it was an intriguing sight.

He reached for her hand again, bringing it to his cheek. It wasn't something she would do on her own accord, not even know, but now that he had given her permission like this, she felt free to explore his face with her fingers, the tips brushing against his skin to familiarize herself again with the features of the man who she loved.

Mr. Todd sighed in a way that could only be described as content and it made the barber even happier to know that he enjoyed her touch.

Quiet minutes passed, but this time they weren't haunted by any unpleasant memories or questions. If anything, it appeared as if they were creating moments instead of remembering them, making something out of nothing and replacing the horrible experiences with ones that were a lot more bearable.

But as both of them were as calm as they could be given the circumstances and she had mapped every curve and line of his face, the baker couldn't help but wonder about the things he had told earlier about himself, the tale that he hadn't completed yet. The story that hopefully included at one point an explanation for his current behavior. For no matter how much she liked it, she was eager to know what was responsible for it indeed.

"Can you tell me what happened after you were in the hospital, when you met Victoria?"

"I can," he said, turning his head somewhat so he could look at her even though he was basically lying on the carpet of his parlor. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Still a curious thing, aren't you?"

The baker's face colored slightly as she realized that her approach perhaps hadn't been the best one. But Mr. Todd just looked at her with that strangely contagious glint in his eyes, for once not bothered by her desire to know about him as much as she could.

"Victoria's appearance wasn't the only surprise. When I had freed the rest of the crew of the captures ship that I was on, it had been for me the only right thing to do. I had never thought that it would mean anything, except for our survival. When the ship sailed back to England, we mostly were too focused on getting there as soon as possible to think very much of what happened. But only when the majority of the crew, including the captain, were in the hospital, my actions seemed to have truly sunk in. They began calling me a _hero_. A crippled hero, but a hero nonetheless."

The barber was obviously still amazed about this and the baker couldn't blame him. Even she found it hard to imagine him saving other people's lives – and she was the one who, more than anyone else, had always seen the best in him.

"I was still too weak to look after Victoria, even though I had come to terms with Lee's request. The nurses and even some of the soldiers kept an eye on her and made sure that she wasn't neglected while I recovered. When I was getting better and it became clear that I could never go back on a ship because of the permanent damage to my leg, the captain of the ship himself helped me built a new life for Victoria and myself. Because his own children were moving out, the house that he and his wife lived in – the house where we are now – was becoming too big for him. Insisting that I deserved the best, he sold it to me for a price that was far below the actual value. I could pay the majority of the price with the money that I had saved throughout the years, when I had been both a soldier and a barber aboard the ship."

"But you don't have a tonsorial parlor any longer," Mrs. Lovett said, realizing that she hadn't seen any sign of a barber shop in the area – only the razor that he was still wearing suggested that he had worked as a barber since his ow return to London.

"That's also thanks to the captain. He was one of the men I used to shave aboard the ship in exchange for a small fee. He was very impressed with my skills, called me the best barber he had ever met."

Mrs. Lovett was aware of the pride in Sweeney's voice when he was reminded of the compliment he once had received. She smiled, recognizing something of Benjamin Barker within him again as he spoke once more with such fondness of his work.

"He recommended me to all his friends and neighbors. They apparently shared his opinion. Before I knew it, the majority of the men living in this area had become my customer. Without exception, they are very rich men who prefer not to visit a tonsorial parlor. So I go to them. It isn't a perfect situation, because of my leg, but even if I work only a few hours a day, I earn more money within that day than I usually did within half a month."

The baker gasped, the true financial position of the barber becoming clear to her now. The contrast with her own life couldn't be greater. He made more money now than even she had done when the fame of her meat pie emporium was at its peak.

"I could spend the rest of my time with Victoria. She was used just as little as I was to all those luxuries I could afford now, but it was to her of course a far greater shock to be living with me instead of her own family. I had little interest in looking after a child and it wasn't any easier because she looks quite a lot like Johanna at first sight, especially when she was younger. But after a somewhat difficult start we got along rather well. We are much more alike than I had initially thought. I can't imagine myself living here without her – or anywhere, for that matter."

Mrs. Lovett was very much aware of the affection that was obvious in his voice when he spoke of his ward. The baker accepted now that he was looking after the girl, but she couldn't help but envy the child a little, having lived with the barber in the wonderful house for such a long time.

"Lee always described her as cheerful and happy, but as long as she's lived here, she was the complete opposite. It's not strange after all, seeing that her parents had died and that _I _was the one who she ended up living with. But I had always convinced that this would improve. Even I began to feel better after living here for a few years, I became more at ease than when I had been at sea, let alone when I lived in Fleet Street. But she... she doesn't laugh or cry, she doesn't talk much... I recognized enough of it to be worried. She doesn't play with dolls and doesn't go outside like I imagined Johanna doing when she had been that age, if she had been given the chance. Instead, Victoria prefers to stay indoors all day, either playing the piano and painting – or watching the stars."

"But this afternoon..." she said, remembering that the girl had been throwing snowballs with Teddy.

"Yes. She _laughed_. I still can't believe it. And she and your boy played in the snow together and they talked for quite some time – almost as long as we were... well. And they played the piano together. She won't even let me touch that piano."

"That's wonderful," Nellie said sincerely. "Teddy is the complete opposite. I was afraid that this would change when I would take him back to London. This is no place for a child to grow up – or at least, so I thought. I had never known there were parts of the city that are this beautiful. If I wouldn't know any better, I'd almost think that we were somewhere on the countryside. Teddy likes it here so far I think and he seems to be very fond of Victoria; this is a much better place for him to live than were we came from."

Both were silent, letting the new situation sink in. They needed both some time for this indeed. Just the change within the children they were responsible for was worth a lot of thought, not to mention the way they had found each other.

"Nellie."

Mrs. Lovett was delighted to hear him say her first name; there was something in the way he addressed her that was only there when he said her name.

"There is something else I want to tell you. Something more important."

The baker looked at him, curious, wondering what there was more to tell.

"About you and me. About how I... feel for you."

Her heart began to beat faster as she realized what he was referring to. She had been too caught up in the story that he had told her so far to remember that this part of his life was the one she had been most eager to hear. But all thoughts of battles and wards were forgotten now that he was struggling to put into words how his opinion of her had changed so drastically.

There was a gentle tug at her arm. Sweeney moved his head slightly away from her, until he was lying fully on the floor. He urged her to do the same. She didn't know why but she followed him, until she too was lying fully on the carpet, head resting on the arm that she folded beneath it. The other entwined with the barber's and even as she suddenly felt nervous, knowing that this was the moment that she had been waiting for for over three decades, for a few seconds she could do nothing but stare at the linked hands, hopefully that their lives from now on would be just like those hands – together.

"The first years after the night that I left London, I hated you more than anything else in the world."

Even though this obviously had changed very much, the baker shivered as she was reminded of the way he had looked at her when he had tried to throw her into the oven. His face had been a mask of hate and disdain, those feelings even stronger than the ones he had harbored for the Judge and the Beadle.

Sensing what she was thinking, he squeezed her hand. The gesture had the intended effect on the baker.

"When I was on the ship, those feelings began to fade – but not just my emotions regarding you, but everything. For a long time, I didn't feel anything at all. When I had become Sweeney Todd, I had lost everything that I had been before. Even if Lucy would've been waiting for me when I had returned and hadn't changed at all since the day that I had left, I'm sure now that I wouldn't have been able to love her."

The baker found herself nodding. She had always thought the same thing. When she had seen him looking at the pictures of his late wife and lost child, there had been regret and melancholy in his gaze – but no longer love or affection.

"When I came to live here with Victoria, this hadn't changed. I did feel however that there was something missing. It didn't take long before I realized that I needed someone to take care of the household and help me look after Victoria. There had never been a time in my life that I had to do anything but work – which was either shaving, laboring or fighting – while others took care of the rest, even though some obviously did so in a much more pleasant way than others. I ended up here with a leg that was useless for the first few months, a house that turned out to be too large and a girl that I didn't care about beyond the promise I had made to my dying friend."

The image of a crippled barber taking care of both the household and the girl appeared inside Mrs. Lovett's mind. She didn't know whether such a vision amused her or made her feel sorry for him, but she didn't show any reaction. Ending his unusually open and generous mood was the last thing she wanted.

"So I hired Mrs. Clint. She was perfect – she still is. I don't know how she manages to keep this house as clean as it is, but she does it. Victoria likes her – as far as she liked anyone before Teddy came along. She's quiet and her cooking is much better than yours."

The look on his face was a mischievous one, the playfulness in his voice clear. But it was especially because of the lovely glint in his eyes when he was teasing her that made sure that the baker took no offense.

"But the more time she spent here, the more I felt that there was still something missing. It was a relief at first that she wasn't talking to me all the time about even the least important things, that she didn't try to get as close to me was possible, didn't touch me whenever she could. The less she reminded me of you, the more pleased I was. Or at least, that's what I thought."

The barber was silent for a moment, his thoughts obviously not with her for a moment, but once again considering the strange discovery that he had made several years ago.

"But I still felt that something was missing – and the more impressed I was with Mrs. Clint's housekeeping skills, the stronger that feeling became. I tried to recall what it was like to live together with Lucy, for as far as I still could. The differences were obvious, but didn't explain the strange belief I had that there was something missing other than the woman I loved."

The baker's breath hitched in her throat as Sweeney referred to the love he felt for his late wife in past tense. She made sure to keep the expression on her face as neutral as she could, not wanting to push him too far, but inside her chest her heart was beating faster than it had done before during that most extraordinary day.

"I wanted to ignore that feeling, but it was so strong that I couldn't. Even though I didn't want to, I began looking back on the few months that we lived together. I had never done so before and I was rather sure that there wasn't much to remember. And there wasn't. I could hardly recall the room where I had lived or the men I had killed – even the memory of the vengeance I took on Turpin and Bamford had faded so much that I couldn't really remember it. But I did remember you."

A delicious shiver spread through her entire body when he looked at her with an intensity that she had only known when it had been focused on his razors or pictures of his lost family.

"It seemed wrong," he mused, "to be able to recall the only part of my life that I had never paid any attention too. But it turned out to be that my eyes had been aware of you even when I wasn't looking, and I found memories of you somewhere in my mind of which I hadn't even known that they were there. Even when I wanted it to stop as soon as I realized what had somehow happened, I saw you inside of me, as if you were inside my head still living just like you had been when we both lived in Fleet Street. The more I wanted it to end, the more insistent those images became."

Mrs. Lovett wasn't sure if she would've been offended or amused if she would've known that Mr. Todd had thought about her like _that _when she still had been convinced that he hated her and possibly still was trying to find a way to kill her after all. But it didn't matter what she would've thought of it; now it was only about how those memories of his had transformed him into the man who was lying next to her at that very moment.

"In my mind, I saw you baking and serving pies, cleaning our shops, laughing and singing... I remembered how you used to read in your parlor, close to the fire with your feet on another chair, a cup of tea within reach. The way you talked to Toby and to your customers – to me - always with kindness and patience, no matter how tired you were. I remembered how you used to collapse on your couch when all the customers were gone and everything was ready for another day at last."

He reached for her, fingers brushing against her cheeks, as if he wanted to make sure that she was truly there after all and that this wasn't another illusion or memory.

"But most of all, I began to remember how you used to look at me. Your eyes... I can't count the times that I woke up at night, feeling as if you had been looking at me in my dreams – and still did when I was awake. I recalled how you used to touch me, your hands always lingering on my arms or shoulders. How you helped me, the advice you gave, tried to make me feel better although even you must've known that there was no use. The way you looked at me when you thought I didn't see you. That you were just always there. And most of all, I remembered how you had confessed your love for me, just before I had tried to kill you. I recalled it word for word, the hope and despair I had seen in your eyes when you declared your love for me, telling me you'd be twice the wife that Lucy had been."

When she was still trying to fully process this – something that would probably take a rather long time – he moved on top of her without warning, with a speed that she hadn't expected from him any longer.

"Finally, I knew what was missing."

He closed the distance that was still left between their faces and kissed her. The kiss was slow and deep – in the baker's eyes, it was a kiss of love instead of lust. But she didn't dare hope too much, knowing that even this would become a disappointment if she allowed herself to think that it was more than it actually was.

So she simply kissed him back, his explanation of his obsession for her sufficient for her. She longed to wrap her legs around his waist, bringing her body as close to his as was possible, but the fabric of her dress was restricting her once again. Instead, she moved her hands in his hair, caressing his dark locks while making sure that he wouldn't break away from the feeling. Judging by the way he sighed her name as he moved slightly back to breathe, he didn't intend to do so either way.

"I couldn't believe what was happening," he said, his lips still only inches away from hers, "I _didn't want _it to be happening. But it did. I remembered everything about you that I had ever noticed, even when I hadn't want to see it all those years ago. I started to miss you – to _long _for you."

He kissed her again and she moaned because of the intensity of it, his lips and tongue caressing her as if he wanted to reach to her very soul. One of his hands moved downwards, exploring the curve of her waist, as if he wanted to make sure that this part of her was real as well, or simply to caress what he had apparently wished to touch for years.

"I began to dream of you. Sometimes those dreams were nightmares – the look in your eyes when you realized what I wanted to do to you, that I had lied about my willingness to live with you by the sea only to distract you – still haunts me. But there were also dreams that I found very pleasant. They were not memories, but new images. I imagined what it would be like if you were here with me, how it would feel like to rest my hand on your arms or shoulders like you used to do, to stare back into those large eyes of yours. I wanted to talk to you, to hold you, to kiss you, to make love to you."

The moan that she let out as he whispered those last words was swallowed by him as he kissed her again, his tongue meeting hers once more in a bittersweet moment of connection. The sensations that only he could cause washed over her once more and more than ever, she fully embraced them, being sure at least now that there was nothing to fear any longer. She was convinced now that he was really sincere, no matter how bizarre it still seemed to her.

Only when both of them were panting with the lack of air a few minutes later, they ended the kiss, bodies trembling and lips swollen – and still eager for more.

"I tried to resist it – you've got no idea. I did everything I could think of to free myself from your memory. But there was no use. And when I gave in to it at last... it was a revelation. It almost seemed as if you were here with me as soon as I fully accepted that I wanted you to. But of course, you weren't really there."

He moved closer to her again, but then stopped himself, obviously struggling to say what he wanted to say before giving in to his desire to kiss her again.

"I began to look for you, only to find out that it was impossible. I had no idea where you had gone – whether you were even still alive – and I couldn't ask without raising suspicion. I had found you only to lose you at the same time. So I settled for the next best thing – the things that had belonged to you, items that you used to touch or wear."

The baker was vaguely reminded of the bizarre room filled with her former possessions that she had seen earlier that day.

"I returned to Fleet Street at night. Realizing that a lot of your things were still there was the first true joy I had felt for as long as I could remember. Your furniture was partly demolished and everything of direct value was gone, but a lot of other things were still there. I took everything with me, returning night after night until it was all here. I put it all in an unused room – I told myself that I wanted to preserve your belongings for you just in case you would ever get back. But most of all I wanted to have your things to have at least something real and tangible to remind me of you."

Instead of kissing her again, he caressed her face with one hand as he supported his weight with the other. Mrs. Lovett closed her eyes, happily letting his tenderness consume her.

"I thought – hoped, maybe – that those crazy feelings would disappear, or at least fade, as time passed. But they only grew stronger. More and more often I found myself imagining what it would be like to meet you again, what you would look like now, what it would be to touch you. Going back to Fleet Street every afternoon became a ritual for me, as if I could somehow get you back that way. I told myself that if you would ever return, you would come back to your former home as well – all I had to do was be there when you arrived. And although I knew more than anyone that life doesn't work like that, you were there today."

The look in his eyes was one of both disbelief and joy, making clear to her that he was truly happy to see her and that he only wasn't fully convinced yet that this wasn't another one of the fantasies he had just talked about.

Wanting to make it as clear to him as she could that she was truly there and that she was just as happy because of that as he was, she reached for him herself now, fingers caressing his cheek until she pulled his face closer to her own, so she could kiss him again.

Her lips brushed against his own but she pulled back before he could reply in kind, only to place a chaste kiss on his cheek, and another one, until she was covering his face with soft kisses.

Judging by his long sighs, he enjoyed this just as much as she did. Wanting her to reach for him with more ease, he locked his hands behind her back and turned both of them around, until she was lying on top of him. Mrs. Lovett took as much advantage of this as she could, kissing his entire face gently, exploring the still somewhat new lines of his face with both her fingers and lips.

"This morning I recognized you as soon as I pulled you away from Victoria," he said once the baker rested her head on his chest, satisfied for the time being. "I had so often imagined what I would say or do if a moment like that would ever become reality, but when I finally saw you again... I could only stare. You were just like I remembered you. But when I saw that boy and noticed how much he looked like you... there was no doubt in my mind that he was your son, that you had found someone else."

His hands clenched into fists even now. Mrs. Lovett pushed herself up on her arms, moving her face towards his to kiss him again, reminding him that there was no one else who she loved and that there never would be.

The barber stopped her however, gently placing his fingers between their lips so she couldn't kiss him.

"What I did to you this afternoon... it was wrong. I was shocked and angry, but it was no excuse for the way I treated you."

His free hand moved up to her shoulder, caressing one of the marks that he had left when he had bitten her skin.

"It's quite all right," she said, teasingly kissing the fingers that were between his lips and her own. "I... enjoyed it."

He looked at her, eyes wide as he shook his head, not believing that she actually said this.

"You are a strange woman," he said after a moment of thought, but there was no disapproval in his voice, as if he was merely stating a fact that he wasn't bothered by at all.

He was clearly amused by her words, until he realized why exactly she hadn't minded when he had kissed and touched her in such a rough fashion.

"But I fear that I am to blame," he said, referring to the way he had treated her when she had been his accomplice, when she had accepted everything he did to her because she loved him. "And I don't want things to be like that any longer."

She didn't know what exactly he was referring to – whether he was talking about the way he had touched her earlier that day or the way he had treated her in general in the past – but it was a very positive development either way.

He removed his fingers that separated their mouths. When she had the chance, she kissed him again, fully surrendering to the blissful sensations that his kisses caused.

Mrs. Lovett was aware that he hadn't told her that he loved her. Such a statement seemed perhaps rather redundant after he had told her all this, but those words were the ones that she had wanted to hear from him for as long as she could remember. Even now she had the feeling that all this would be even better when he told her directly what his words were suggesting.

There was something in his kiss however that was completely unlike anything she had ever known, something that she hadn't expected even from him. And although there came no verbal declaration of love, the baker had at that moment the feeling that he was telling her that he loved her without using words.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Mrs. Lovett was having the most wonderful dream she had ever had. She dreamed that she had dozed off after having found Sweeney Todd again, spending an afternoon and an evening with him that had been turbulent to say the least.

Even in her dreams, the feeling of his body against her own was so solid that it almost seemed to be real, and her stomach was suspiciously quiet, as if she had just indeed filled it with the best food she had ever had.

The baker was used by now to have dreams of this fashion; even only several days after he had tried to kill her, her subconsciousness had come up with images of affection and intimacy between the two of them.

The first time that this had happened, when she could basically still feel the pressure on her arm at the spots where the barber had held her when he had been ready to cast her into the fire, she had been truly disturbed. She had known very well that the man who the barber had become wasn't a pleasant person and she had accepted it. But now that she had found out the hard way to which extent his madness had actually spread, it seemed simply wrong to think of him in a romantic way.

She hadn't been able to help herself however. Both during the night and during the day she had found herself thinking of Sweeney Todd, her treacherous mind trying to come up with scenarios where a relationship between the two of them could work after all.

As always, dreams had dominated her nights. Usually they were innocent enough; dreams of kissing the barber gently or simply having her hand in his were enough to make her happy – until the dream ended, at least. Others hadn't been so chaste at all. Every once in a while she would wake covered in sweat, a heat burning deep inside of her, feeling as if the barber had touched her intimately after all. In such moments she had to push her face in her thin pillow to prevent herself from waking Teddy with her groans, both of arousal and frustration.

The dream she had just had hadn't been as heated, but it had been intense indeed. In her sleep she had kissed the barber so often that she had lost count, and in the majority of the moments he had actually kissed her back with a passion that had even surprised her in her sleep.

Mrs. Lovett knew that she was no stranger to such dreams and although it was clear even to her that those dreams had little to do with reality, she savored them, knowing too well that moments like the one she experienced in her sleep were the only ones that she could truly spend with the barber in such an affectionate way.

She had always had them, even though the dreams appeared to become more intense the longer she was away from the barber. The dream that she just had had however had been so overwhelming and real, that it couldn't really be compared to the dreams she had had recently – or at any point in her life.

Even when her eyes fluttered open and she made a small noise of contentment, the feeling of Mr. Todd's lips pressing against hers fresh in her mind even now, the dream didn't fade.

If anything, the feeling of his warm body beneath her own became only stronger, just like the pressure of the supple hands that were caressing her back.

It was only when her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room that she was in and she saw the piece of a white shirt in front of her eyes, that she realized that she hadn't been dreaming after all – or at least, the events that had taken place in her head while she slept were rooted firmly in reality.

"Slept well?"

The barber's voice was deliciously teasing as he became aware of her confusion.

"I... what..."

The baker was too bewildered to reply to him for the moment, first needing to find out what was going on exactly.

First of all she became slowly aware that she was actually lying on top of the barber, his body in a way functioning as the best pillow and mattress she had ever had. His hands weren't only an illusion either; even now, they were caressing her, moving far below the small or her back. It made the baker blush even though she wasn't fully awake yet, but still remembered with unpleasant clarity that she had noticed herself only a few hours ago that there was little left of the curves with which she once had hoped to seduce them.

But apparently, Sweeney couldn't care less, repeating the motions over and over again. Those caresses didn't make it any easier to think, to separate dream from reality.

After another few seconds of confusion she realized however that she had indeed been dreaming, but that the heavenly dream had only been a reproduction of her mind that was based on something that had actually happened, no matter how difficult that was to believe.

"For how long was I asleep?" she asked, shocked that she had apparently fallen asleep in the barber's arms, just after he had told her how important she had become for him. It wasn't a moment that she would chose for herself to doze off, but clearly it had happened after all.

"Only half an hour or so," he said, wiping some unruly curls out of her face.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, cheeks coloring slightly because she recalled now that she hadn't been the only one who had been quite eager to make good use of the fact that they were in the same room now without any hard feelings between them.

"Don't be," he said, "you clearly needed it."

"Teddy and I took the first train to London this morning," she admitted, "it was the only one we could afford."

It had been no wonder that those tickets were relatively cheap. She supposed that the journey was usually long and tiring enough already. But only people who were desperate – or crazy – took the one that left long before the break of dawn.

It didn't matter any longer; if she hadn't taken that train, she wouldn't be here now. Although she was rather embarrassed that the journey had exhausted her so much that she was falling asleep, even when the barber was so close to her.

It was not just the journey however that had tired her so much; especially since she had lost her job, she had spent many nightly hours awake, trying to find a way to look after both Teddy and herself. Dreaming was a much better way to spend the night indeed, but it was an alternative that she no longer had been able to afford. But now this too was of no importance any longer; at least for the time being, real life was better than even her most vivid dreams had ever been.

"Don't worry about it," he said, his hands coming to rest on the small of our back. "We have the time."

She smiled a little, knowing that he was probably right.

"And besides, I like watching you sleep."

The baker's cheeks colored again, but not with shame this time. There was just something about this revelation that made her entire body tingle.

"Let us speak of it no more," he said, his voice more serious as he mistook her reaction for embarrassment.

The baker began to feel a bit uncomfortable in her close position to the barber, realizing that she must've been there for quite a while and that his body probably wasn't what it once had been, especially not after the injury on his leg.

So she got up carefully, making sure not to hurt him as she had done last time, and sat up. The barber followed her immediately and a moment later, the two adults found themselves sitting on the floor in the middle of the parlor. Mrs. Lovett was somewhat amused by this, but she didn't think about it for long when she found Sweeney looking briefly at the food that was still standing on the table.

"You haven't eaten yet."

It was more a question than a statement.

The barber just shrugged, as if eating wasn't important all. Nellie was horrified however; Mr. Todd had just done so much to make sure that she could have a good meal without regretting it later, but she had completely forgotten that he hadn't dinner yet himself.

She made her way to the table, getting up on her knees to take a good look at the food that was remaining. There was still quite a lot of it, even after she had had as much as she wanted; he had obviously been generous when he had selected the food that was meant for her.

The soup was cold and thus rather inedible – or at least, it probably was in the barber's eyes, whose standards were now, ironically, doubtlessly a lot higher than her own. She knew from experience that the bread would still taste almost as well as it had done before, even though it was cold now.

Having learned a thing or two to come up with practical solutions in such circumstances, the baker took the pan with the remaining soup and placed it close to the fire, that was almost extinguished now. She spotted a box with wood that was next to the hearth and threw a few blocks on the fire, bringing it back to its former temperature and magnitude.

Convinced that she wouldn't get the soup any warmer unless she went to find a fire that was actually suitable for tasks like this in the kitchen – something she didn't plan to do at all as long as the barber was in the parlor – she simply put the pan as close to the burning flames as was possible.

"Come here, you silly man," she said to the barber, who was watching her with unconcealed amusement.

He did as he was told, making his way to her and taking the bowl of remaining bread with him while doing so.

"Are we going to have a picnic?"

"Why not?" the baker asked, sitting down on the floor next to the hearth, winking at the man who seemed to be both surprised and amused by her plan.

He sat down next to her, crossing his legs beneath his body. Mrs. Lovett had imagined herself eating with the barber alone in many settings, but this wasn't one of them. But even except from the decor it couldn't have been more different from the few rare trips to the park that she had made with the barber and Toby when they still lived together.

Mr. Todd obviously didn't like sitting like that, judging from the way he was shifting restlessly. She was afraid that his leg was hurting this way or, which was at least just as likely, that he simply didn't want to eat with her like that, as if her playfulness was something that was below him.

It became clear soon however that this wasn't the case at all. Looking at her, he moved down until he was lying fully on the floor, not breaking their locked gazes for even the shortest moment.

She didn't understand what he was doing, until he moved closer to her and rested his head on her thigh, using her upper leg as some sort of pillow just like he had done before.

This way he couldn't reach for the bowl with bread that he had taken with him. Mrs. Lovett however knew a solution for that and although she would've feared in any other situation that Mr. Todd would think that she was going too far, he clearly didn't now. Otherwise he wouldn't have gotten himself in their current position in the first place.

Smiling mischievously as she recalled how he had fed her earlier, she took a slide of bread, tore it into smaller pieces, and gave them to him one by one.

He wasn't bothered by this at all; if anything, he seemed that he was enjoying it. Maybe he had once thought about something like this, to be eating in front of the fire in such an unusual way. But he probably had, just like her, been unable to come up with something as bizarre as this, only to find out now that this was better than most of the things he had ever imagined for the two of them.

He reached for her with one arm until he could take her left hand in his own. Mrs. Lovett could only stare at their joined hands for a moment, still not used at all to the apparent current normalcy of such actions.

But she shook herself out of it, reminding herself that she'd better get used to this, or at least for a while. Sensing that he was quite hungry now himself, she took another piece of bread, making smaller pieces out of it if only because that gave her a good reason to reach for the barber's face more often, pretending to brush her fingers against his lips accidentally every once in a while.

She couldn't believe that this was actually happening, but even now his lips were obviously real, feeling warmer and softer against her fingertips than she had expected.

Mrs. Lovett was getting a little hungry herself again as she watched the barber eat. Knowing that he wouldn't mind and very grateful to have the opportunity, she took a few more pieces of bread herself, once more surprised by its delicious taste. She vaguely wondered whether the food actually tasted so good or that her standards had become so low after living in poverty for such a long time. She decided to ask Mr. Todd later about the bread; being a baker herself, she wanted to know those things – you never knew when such information could be useful.

Once the barber's own hunger had been mostly slaked, she didn't stop feeding him. The pieces of bread she gave him were smaller than before and she didn't give them to him as fast as she initially had done, but it was now more about getting her fingers as close to Sweeney's lips under the pretense of feeding him.

The barber realized soon enough however what she was doing and, gently taking the bread that she was currently holding out of her hands to place it back in the bowl where it came from, guided her hand to his face again, this time without having to pretend that she was actually doing something else.

Delighted that he was letting her do this and at the same time terrified to ruin the wonderful chance he had just given her, she reached for him now without any pretense. Her fingers were trembling when they brushed against the barber's face again, exploring his features. Although she had done so already not long before, this wasn't something she would get used to easily, even if she would've dared the previous time to touch as much of him as she actually wanted.

She didn't dare reach for his lips immediately, but his still slightly hallow cheek was a good place to start. She touched it gently, familiarizing herself with the structure of that part of him once again. She had touched this part of him only a short while ago, but she was still as eager to caress him like that as she had been then.

Mr. Todd didn't say anything, but the way his breath quickened when she touched him was encouraging enough for her to continue. It was obvious that he too wasn't bored at all now that she was doing this again.

Her fingers moved down to his lips when she had enough courage to do so. He gasped and so did she, amazed that she could influence him like this. She moved closer to him, the strands of her hair that had gotten loose during the unusual afternoon that they had spent together falling over him like a curtain, shielding both of them from the rest of the world. No matter how much she enjoyed doing this and it was clear that he shared this feeling, it wasn't enough for both of them. He pulled her towards him, until she continued to explore the shape of his face with her lips.

Her body was bend uncomfortably as she was leaning down and the baker managed to get up, not breaking away from him while doing so, intending to lie down beside him. As she was doing so however, her leg came in contact with the pan of soup that was still warming next to the fire, almost knocking it over.

Startled, she looked up abruptly for the source of the sudden impact. By the time she realized what had happened, the barber was sitting up as well, just as surprised by the sudden noise as she had been.

"We aren't very lucky, are we?" he asked, looking at the innocently looking pan.

She just nodded, sighing as she did so.

"Do you want some soup?" she asked, the moment of intimate tenderness clearly over.

The baker didn't like this at all, but she figured that it would be best now to become a bit more practical again. She hadn't put the pan near the fire for nothing after all and if the coming hours were going to turn out the way she hoped they would, both would need all the strength and energy they could possibly get.

She reached for the pan with care, making sure not to spill the soup after all. The spoon that she had just used herself was still standing in it and she used it to try some of the soup. It wasn't as warm as she would've liked, but it was a lot more edible than it must've been when it had been fully cooled.

There didn't appear to be another spoon, but before she could begin to wonder where she could quickly get another one, Mr. Todd just took it.

"I don't think this will make a difference," he said, raising a suggestive eyebrow that made the baker feel very flushed indeed.

The idea of Sweeney holding the spoon himself was one that she wasn't very fond of, but feeding him soup as well seemed a bit tricky, even to her. She didn't want to spoil the tomato soup over his floor and carpet and the chance of doing so was rather large. Even now, her hands were trembling because of the way she and the barber were spending their time.

He ate the soup with obvious delight. The baker couldn't help but feel a little bit hurt to see him eat someone else's food since he had never eaten hers, but she knew well enough that it hadn't anything to do with the actual food – or at least, not very much. And the way he was looking at her, his eyes still locked with hers even when he was eating, made it impossible for her to be only slightly upset with him.

Just watching him eat was wonderful. She couldn't take her eyes off him, even though he took his time eating the majority of the soup that was left. It was good to see that he looked after himself like this now, even though the baker had the feeling that Mrs. Clint might have to push him in the right direction every once in a while. He had just eaten more than he usually did within an entire week and she was truly happy to see that this had changed so much.

When he was finished, he placed the almost empty pan as far away as he could without having to get up, clearly wanting to prevent the metal from getting in their way once again. Apparently very content with the place where he currently was, he lay down on the carpet, his face towards the fire.

Sensing the silent invitation, the baker made herself comfortable in front of him. Her back was towards him, so she could stare into the fire just like he did. She could see her favorite chair from the corner of her eyes and once again she was reminded of all the hours that she had spent sitting in that chair, looking at a similar fire while thinking of a happy future for the barber and herself, which had never been much like what was currently happening.

It was one of the first truly quiet moment that she had known that day. Beginning to feel tired in spite of herself, the baker just stared into the flames, her thoughts going nowhere in particular as she was mostly just aware of the barber who was right behind her, holding on to her tightly.

The feeling of being filled with as much food as she had wanted to eat was a strange one after having lived with a hungry, growing boy without much of an income for years, but it was nothing compared to the oddness of seeing this caring and gentle side of the man of whom she had feared that he had lost all the goodness he once had possessed.

She could get used to it however, of course. For now, she felt safe and happy indeed. Her dreams, of which she had been sure that they were lost forever, were more than within reach now – they seemed to have come true. She wanted to savor that feeling, to fully _know _what she had achieved, to be aware of everything that had found its way into her life that day.

But the delicious food that she had eaten made her feel lazy, the warmth of the fire and most of all Sweeney's body against her own made her feel sleepy. She stifled a yawn, forcing herself to stay awake for at least a bit longer, to enjoy as much of the current situation as she could.

There was still a feeling of worry inside of her; if things in her life had seemed to be too good to be true, they usually were. She couldn't help but vaguely fear that this was nothing but a dream after all, and that all that she had found that day would be gone as soon as she woke up and opened her eyes again, only to see the greyness of the life she had lived during the past years, where a boy that wasn't her own was the only light in her existence.

Turning her partly around in order to be able to do so, the barber silenced her doubt with a soft kiss on her lips, making a promise of trust and loyalty without using words.

Mrs. Lovett sighed as his lips touched hers once more, the feelings that his mouth caused in her entire being rushing over her again. She embraced those wonderful but completely unfamiliar and rather intimidating sensations, just like the barber himself, pulling him on top of her.

She knew now how heavenly it felt like when such a kiss escalated and she wanted to experience it again, this time without being interrupted by anybody or anything. The baker wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her as she opened her mouth, wanting to deepen the kiss.

Mr. Todd wouldn't let her do so however, keeping some distance between them as he ended the kiss.

"You haven't changed one bit," he said, the amused spark she had noticed earlier appearing in his eyes again.

No matter how lovely and miraculous it was to see this, there was something else that the baker wanted quite a bit more at that moment.

"Don't tease," she muttered, suppressing another yawn as she reached for the barber again. She needed him a lot more than sleep, but she feared that her body couldn't stay awake much longer if Sweeney didn't touch her properly soon.

"We should wait."

The baker groaned with frustration at this.

"I'm sick of waiting. If you think about it, we have waited for several _decades_."

"So a few more hours wouldn't hurt."

"_Please_."

The barber's wish to wait made feel uncomfortable. There had been days that she had told him again and again that waiting was a good thing, but now she didn't quite agree with that any longer. She had learned the hard way that you had to claim things before they were taken from you; no matter what would happen later, she wanted to be touched by the barber in the ultimate way at least once. If he didn't want to do so now, she feared that he never would.

"Think about it," he said. For the first time she was aware that the prospect of waiting wasn't one he was very fond of himself. "The previous few times... well. Teddy and Victoria are in the room next to ours and there's nothing to prevent them from barging here and catching us again. Mrs. Clint is still here as well. If we wait a few hours, the children will be asleep in the other side of the house and Mrs. Clint will be at home. You can rest in the mean time."

Mrs. Lovett had to admit that the idea was a rather good one. It would take a long time before she'd be able to forget about the look on Teddy's face when he had seen her with Mr. Todd's hand beneath her skirt – and she had the feeling that the boy wouldn't forget for quite some time as well. She could leave it to him to see her accidentally again in an intimate situation with the barber.

"And what will we do then?" she asked mischievously, fully aware now of the tension in Sweeney's body and the slight hesitation in his voice. She agreed with his plan, but that didn't mean that she would let him get away with it so easily. He could torment her if he wanted to, but she was going to show him that he wasn't the only one who could tease.

"We shall take a bath," he said immediately, suggesting that he had completely considered the matter already. "There's a tub in the bathroom. It should just be large enough for both of us – if we sit very close to each other."

The baker's breath hitched in her throat at those words. The mere thought of a bath was a tempting one, but taking it together with Mr. Todd himself...

"Yes," he said, seeing her reaction of his words. "A long and hot bath. A bath to be savored."

Mrs. Lovett's shut her eyes, but not with fatigue this time. She had always thought that the barber's voice was beautiful, but never before had it sounded as wonderful as now, when he was whispering words of such suggestive nature.

"It'll be slow... long... thorough..." he moved his mouth closer to her ear, his nose brushing against her skin as he spoke quietly. "Unlike anything you've ever known."

She shuddered, feeling deliciously ravished by his words alone as her mind, overactive as usual, didn't have much trouble imagining herself being subjected to the barber's attention in such a way.

"Mr. Todd," she breathed, cheeks flushed and chest heaving against the barber's body, "you can't say that to a woman and expect her to fall asleep like this."

His only reaction was an implicative raise of his eyebrow. In spite of her impatient state, Mrs. Lovett couldn't help but smile brightly. The barber's banter was another solid proof of how he had changed, finding back some of the humor and playfulness of the man he once had been. The way his lips quirked upwards somewhat because of her response made her smile widen.

She sobered quickly however when she was reminded of their circumstances. Her smile faded and the evidence of his delight was erased from his face within a second as well. His expression wasn't as empty however as it usual was and this encouraged her.

Sleep was overpowering her and it was completely clear now to the baker that she couldn't engage in any activity, let alone one as demanding as the one that Mr. Todd had not so subtly suggested, until she had slept for a while and was fully rested again.

"Promise me that you'll be there when I wake up."

"I promise."

Those two words were all that she needed in order to allow herself to fall asleep at last. There was something about the way he said them, something about the way that he held her as he did so, that made her feel that she could trust him fully.

Sweeney sat up and the baker couldn't prevent herself from sighing with disappointment because of this. She had had no reason to believe that he would do so, but she had hoped that he would stay with her when she slept.

He gestured her to stand up from the soft and thick carpet that covered the floor as well, confusing her more. She had presumed that he had wanted her to sleep right there; it wasn't a bed but it was comfortable enough.

The thought that he might be taking her to his bedroom rose within her, making her shiver lightly. She had accepted that they had to wait before surrendering to their desire for each other fully for the first time, but she feared that sticking to this plan would be rather difficult after all if he would literally bring her to his bed.

As soon as she stood up however, Sweeney guided her to the largest couch of the parlor. He lay down on it as soon as he could, making himself comfortable as he never took his eyes off her. When he was apparently satisfied with the way he was lying on the couch, he motioned her to join him.

The suggestion was a tempting one indeed, but the baker hesitated for a moment. Whenever she had been close to the barber before, both of them had been too caught up in the moment to be fully aware of what they were doing.

This time however both were very much aware of even the slightest movement that the other made, knowing how quickly things could spin beyond their control. Knowing what could happen, they also knew what to do in order to avoid it. But making herself comfortable on top of the barber wasn't something she had much practice at and she certainly didn't want to make any kind of mistake; the last thing she wanted to do now was hurt him again or, almost just as worse, do something that would drive him away from her at last.

The look in his eyes however made her relax. He didn't need to use words to tell her that there was nothing to be afraid of, that this was as new to him as it was to her. She could read the confirmation that she needed in his gaze.

Scolding herself for being so silly, she settled herself on the couch again. In spite of his encouragement, doing so was difficult when the barber's body was right there and those dark eyes of his didn't miss even the smallest of her movements. Not to mention the fact that the old skirts she detested so much prevented her from snuggling against him like she wanted to do and she had to be careful to prevent herself from hurting him again accidentally.

She intended to straddle the barber's waist, sensing that this was the only way to make herself comfortable with him, even though this wouldn't make it any easier for her to actually sleep. The heavy and long skirts however made this once again rather impossible to do. The baker felt foolish indeed, resting on her knees on the edge of the couch without having a clue how to get closer to the barber without either of them getting stuck with the various layers of fabric that she was wearing.

Sensing this problem, Sweeney moved up somewhat and reached for the edges of her skirt. To her surprise and delight, he carefully hiked up the material, exposing her boots and stocking clad legs.

Both of them held their breath as he did so. Although it was clear to her that he tried not to stare, Mrs. Lovett caught him watching the lower half of her body intently even though he had seen her like this already earlier that day. It was obvious that he didn't mind at all to see her like this again. She couldn't help but smirk because of this, triumph and delight welling up inside of her because he was again _finally _looking at her in that way she had dreamed of for so long.

Being partly free now from the bothersome material of the skirts, the baker carefully straddled him like she had planned to do earlier, and settled herself against his chest. She longed to wrap both her arms and legs around him, clinging to him for all that she was worth now that she had the possibility at last, but she found herself lacking the courage to do so now that the barber's acceptance of her feelings had become so much more than a mere illusion.

Mrs. Lovett was tempted for a moment to shift a bit more against him than was really necessary, paying him back somewhat for the way he had just teased her, but she decided against it. At the moment, she was too tired for any more games – even if they were as seductive as the one that Sweeney apparently liked to play these days – and she felt that it was cruel to torment him. Especially now that she was lying so closely to him, it was very clear to her that it hadn't been as easy for him to persuade her just to go to sleep as she thought earlier.

Although it was a rather difficult thing to relax during such circumstances, Mrs. Lovett calmed somewhat as the two of them lay very still for a few minutes, slowly familiarizing themselves with the still unknown feeling of being close to each other like this.

As time passed, she began to feel as much at ease being so near the barber as she had been before, when she hadn't been fully aware yet of the way that their bodies touching. She could feel that Mr. Todd was relaxing as well.

Not feeling as awkward as before at all, she moved her arms from their safe position on the edges of the couch after all and wrapped them around the barber's neck again. He returned the gesture by moving his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him until his chin was resting against her head. The contented sigh was a mutual one.

They just lay like that and Mrs. Lovett's mind began the long process of analyzing everything that had happened that day. Her thoughts were slow and vague with tiredness and happiness however; for once, she realized that she didn't want to think at all. She simply enjoyed this moment, one that would've seen so utterly impossible to her until just a few hours ago.

After a while, when her eyes had closed, Sweeney reached for her hair. To her surprise, he began removing the pins that kept her auburn curls somewhat in place.

"What are you doing?" she asked, bewildered even though she was almost asleep already.

"Beginning to make you ready for your bath," he replied quietly.

His words made her exhausted being shudder with desire again. The way he ran his fingers through her loose strands of hair suggested something more than simple want, something that went much deeper than that.

The touches however were innocent and gentle, lulling her to sleep after all. When all the pins were taken from her hair, Sweeney began to caress the auburn locks, carefully running his hands through them with curious but eager movements.

The baker didn't think that there had ever been a moment that she had felt better than she did at that very moment. Usually the few hours that she could afford to sleep where the only ones that she could be with the barber, the only times that she could be truly happy.

This was quite the other way around now, but Nellie still didn't mind to go to sleep any longer. Sleeping would be a pleasant thing indeed when Mr. Todd was so close to her and awakening would be most agreeable now, for it would enable her to fully re-enter her life that had basically turned into a real dream now.

Her body slowly gave in to its urge to sleep after all, and images of a steamy bathtub began to fill her mind. The last thing she heard before she was fully asleep at last, where the words that Sweeney whispered in her ear when his hands came to rest on the small of her back in a gesture that was both protective and possessive.

"I'll be there."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Mrs. Lovett was woken a few hours later by the sound of voices that were coming from somewhere outside the room that she was currently in. This time it was immediately clear to her that she wasn't dreaming and that the events of that day hadn't only happened in her mind.

It was difficult for her however to determine where she was at that moment, and what was going on. It was obvious that she wasn't in the parlor any longer, but she didn't have a clue where she was instead.

But there was no denying that Sweeney Todd was still very close to her. He shifted against her, tightening his grasp around her waist as he mumbled something with a sleepy voice. She was surprised to find that she had woken more quickly than the barber himself. But judging from the way he was holding her, he wasn't very interested in waking at that moment.

The baker heard the voices outside the room again. She recognized Victoria's now, but she couldn't hear what the barber's ward was saying.

"But I can't sleep when Mum isn't there," Teddy replied to whatever the girl had said to him. It was then very clear to Mrs. Lovett what was going on.

"Just because she isn't in the room that Mrs. Clint prepared for her doesn't mean that…"

The baker knew that Teddy couldn't be stopped as he was as determined as he was now, no matter what Victoria tried to say. Mrs. Lovett braced herself and a moment later, the door of the room that she was in was opened with force.

The light of the candle that Victoria was holding made an end to the absolute darkness. The baker could see now that she was in a large room, that was mostly empty except for the bed that she was currently in together with Mr. Todd.

Before she had the chance to fully consider this or to find out how she had ended up here, Teddy walked into the bedroom, leaving Victoria at the threshold.

"_There_ you are."

His words were spoken with confidence, but Mrs. Lovett knew the boy and could easily tell that he had been worried about her and had missed her quite a lot. When she saw him again, she realized that she too had missed him, but she had been too focused on Sweeney to really think about him before.

Sensing that something was going on at last, Mr. Todd lifted up his head to look over the baker's body to the boy who was talking.

Only then Teddy became aware that his aunt wasn't as alone in the large bad as he had originally thought. When he spotted the barber's body behind hers, the boy took a step back, staring at Sweeney as if he had seen a ghost. He obviously didn't understand why she was in the same bed as Mr. Todd and it was clear from the look on Victoria's face, who was watching the scene enfold from just outside the room, that she was shocked as well.

Seeing the reaction of the two children, Mrs. Lovett became quite nervous. She wasn't fond of doing things that shocked her nephew, if only because she couldn't stand the look of disappointment and badly hidden discomfort that always was clear in his eyes when she did such things. Although she didn't intend to hide from the boy that she and Mr. Todd were more than fond of each other, she hadn't exactly intended for him to see her in the same bed as the barber only hours after the boy had found them kissing with very much enthusiasm in a previously abandoned alley.

Wondering how bad things were exactly, she moved a hand to her body, finding out that she was at least still wearing her own clothing. She couldn't remember what had happened, but she could feel that Mr. Todd hadn't touched her any more than he had done that day already. Teddy however had different ideas about it, looking at the barber with a gaze that was accusing indeed.

"Don't worry boy," Sweeney said, "I've been looking after our aunt, that's all."

Teddy wasn't entirely convinced, but he visibly relaxed as he concluded that nothing unpleasant had happened to her when he had been away. Mrs. Lovett was relieved that the barber had thought of something proper to say long before she had, even though he still appeared to be rather sleepy.

"I can't sleep when you're not there," Teddy said, as if remembering again why he had gone looking for her in the first place.

"I told him that he couldn't just go here, but…"

"It's all right," Sweeney said, calming the girl who seemed to feel responsible for the entire situation.

Feeling the barber's curious eyes on her, the baker felt forced to explain some things regarding Teddy's upbringing to him.

"The house we had in Newcastle was very small. There was only one bedroom and Teddy has been sleeping in my bed."

She felt that it was for the moment better not to tell that she had enjoyed the boy's presence just as much as Teddy himself. Having been alone for a long time, Mrs. Lovett wished to be reminded as often as possible of the fact that she had a child now, even though he wasn't her own. She also was more than happy with the extra warmth that he provided, especially during cold winters like the one that was currently going on.

"Please let me stay with you," Teddy said, looking at her in that way of which he knew that she couldn't resist it.

Mrs. Lovett was torn. She didn't want to say no to her nephew, but at the same time she rather didn't want him to be there now that she appeared to be together with Mr. Todd in a large and very comfortable bed. The way his grasp around her tightened, almost as if he saw the boy as competition, told her that the barber wasn't keen on the idea of allowing Teddy to get next to her in the bed.

But as she thought about it, the choice turned out to be easier than she had thought. Teddy might not be her son but she did consider him as such. It was her responsibility to look after him, especially in this situation, because she had dragged him into it herself. She had been with Mr. Todd the entire time that she had been there, who was obviously very much at ease in the environment that was both for her but for especially for Teddy unlike anything they had ever known. The boy however had spent all this time with a girl who he didn't know and although the baker had trusted Mrs. Clint to keep an eye on him, she too wasn't someone who Teddy was familiar with. It had probably been relatively easy for him so far because he was a child and adapted to new situations quickly, but he was still just that – a child.

"You can stay here," she said, making an end to the moment of indecision.

Teddy happily made his way to the bed and moved beneath the covers, casting a triumphant look at the barber, as if Mr. Todd was an evil man who he had to protect his aunt against but who was defeated now.

"I'm all right now," the boy said to Victoria, who was still standing just behind the threshold.

The girl nodded and turned around, then left without saying a word. She took the candle with her and as soon as the only source of light had disappeared down the stairs, it was completely dark in the bedroom once more.

The boy cuddled against the baker and held on to her with two small hands. Her nephew on one side and the barber on the other, both very much aware of each other's presence even when they were both holding her, was just a bit too much for Mrs. Lovett, but she didn't want either of them to go.

"It's strange here," Teddy said, "but I like it."

Mrs. Lovett smiled a little, happy to hear that her nephew seemed to be enjoying himself in the large house and with the people he hadn't met until earlier that day. She felt rather envious as well however; she wished that she still possessed the boy's ability to get used to new situations so easily without worrying about anything. The baker herself had enjoyed the events of that day more than probably anything else that had ever happened in her life, but even now she found herself wondering how long it would last, fearing that the barber would come to his senses and kick her out of his house after all.

To her relief, Teddy fell asleep very soon. She wanted to find out how she had ended up in the large bed and she figured that the conversation was going to be one that the young boy shouldn't hear.

Only when the boy, who usually was hopelessly aware of the things going around them, was oblivious to the situation, the baker could freely breath again – only to come to the conclusion that doing so was rather difficult.

After a moment of trying to find out what was wrong with her, she realized that she was still wearing her dress and corset. Especially the latter made it usually more than difficult enough for her to breath, but now that her head was resting on a big and fluffy pillow in which half of her head disappeared and she was pressed between the boy and the man that were lying on both sides of her, inhaling was even more difficult.

"What's wrong?" the barber asked, noticing that something wasn't like it should be.

"I can hardly breath," she answered, panic arising within her when she found out that she couldn't get enough air even when she breathed in deeply.

Mr. Todd reacted quickly. He let go off her and managed to break her out of Teddy's embrace without waking him, then pulling her in an upright position.

The baker's head was spinning with the quick changes, but when she breathed in again, she found it a lot easier to inhale enough air.

"It's better now," she said, more feeling than seeing Sweeney's worried gaze. "It's just that bloody corset..."

When she said this, she was reminded again of the strange fact that she was lying in bed with her clothes still on – not to mention that Sweeney had been very close to her when she had woken.

"What happened?"

"You fell asleep earlier tonight. Because I didn't want to wake you, I decided just to take you to bed. I intended to bring you to the room that Mrs. Clint had prepared for you – but when I was there, I knew that I didn't want to let you go out of my sight and that I needed to stay with you even when you slept anyway. I had promised you that, after all – and I didn't _want _to go away from you. My bed is a lot bigger and more comfortable than the one in the spare bedroom, so I took you to mine."

Mrs. Lovett was vaguely amused by the ease which with he said those words, their meaning and implication being of a kind that she had never managed to make up, let alone to let them sound so convincing.

"I hope you don't mind."

The tone of his voice suggested that he was actually afraid that she would be upset that he had taken her to his bedroom without her permission , which almost caused the baker to burst out in a fit of laughter.

She hid her amusement however, not wanting to wake Teddy with the sound of her laughter and, more importantly, to prevent Mr. Todd from feeling even guiltier than he apparently already did.

"I don't mind at all," she just said, hoping that it wasn't too obvious that she was, if anything, more than excited to find herself in the barber's bed.

It was not as if they could actually _do _anything now that Teddy was there as well, but Mrs. Lovett knew that she had to get out of her corset either way to prevent herself from fainting or anything like that – now _that _would ruin the situation.

"Did you happen to take my nightgown from Fleet Street as well?" she asked, recalling that she hadn't seen her old nightgown among her clothing in the room upstairs. It was the only one she had had; she had meant to replace it, but had never had the chance.

"I did."

Only a few seconds later, he handed her a piece of clothing. After a quick inspection, she was sure that it was indeed her old nightgown.

"That was a good idea to take it with you out of that room when you brought me here," she said, thinking that he had taken it with him earlier that evening.

"Well, actually..."

There was a sigh coming from a spot in the darkness that was quite close to her.

"I've kept it with me here since I found it."

There was a heavy silence when it dawned on her what he was talking about. Apparently, he had kept that single nightgown that she had owned with him all this time – here, in this bed.

"It's not that I..." he began, awkwardly considering words to defend himself.

"Don't be silly," she said, not wanting him to feel bad for what he had done, especially not because she was secretly very pleased to hear that he had done this.

"Sweeney," she said, the two syllables feeling rather strange when she pronounced them. "I feel honored that you did this. If I would've had a shirt or something like that of yours, I would've done the same thing. I probably would've put my pillow in it so I could be as close to your shirt – to you – when I slept, even if you weren't there at all."

The sound that she heard in the darkness was somewhere between a sigh and a gasp. There was a rush of air and the sound of a squeaking bed, indicating that he had stood up abruptly, and she could feel that he headed for her. The baker didn't want to do anything however before she had freed herself of her corset, which was making it difficult for her to breath even now.

"Let me get changed," she said, standing up from the edge of the bed as well, but carefully taking a few steps away from the barber, her hands stretching in front of her to make sure that she didn't bump into anything in the dark and unfamiliar room.

Only when she was sure that there was a decent amount of space between them, she reached for the strings on the back of her dress. No matter how much she wouldn't mind doing this in the broad daylight right in front of him, she felt that it wasn't the right time now. Even if Teddy hadn't been sleeping just a few meters away, she felt too overwhelmed by what had happened so far already and her mind was foggy with sleep and tiredness even now.

When she reached for the strings however that needed to be undone in order for her to pull out the dress, she didn't find them at their usual spot. Raising a bewildered eyebrow, she tried again, reaching further down between her back this time. Now she did feel the strings, but to her confusion the pattern in which they were tied was different than usual and the knots were just out of her reach.

She needed a moment to remember that Mr. Todd was the one who had tied those laces at the end of the afternoon, when he had helped her get her dress back on when they had been about to have dinner. There was no way that she was capable of undoing the knots without his help.

"Sweeney," she whispered.

"Yes?"

"I need your help."

There was the soft sounds of his bare feet on the floorboards as he approached her.

"I can't reach for the ties of my dress," she said, feeling her head beginning to burn because of what she was suggesting. "You tied them this afternoon; do you think you can undo that?"

"I'm not sure, but I'll try."

Something poked against her side; Sweeney was looking for her but could see just as little as she did, the sound of her voice helping him only to some extent.

"I'm here," she said anyway, just in case his hands would hit her at a more unfortunate place next.

"Found you," he replied a moment later, when his fingers moved against her back, with less force than before.

His hands brushed their way upwards, looking for the ends of the strings now that his eyes couldn't do so due to the lack of light. Although his touches were purely practical, Mrs. Lovett couldn't help but close her eyes and savor the feeling of his fingers against her back, appreciating the lightest and most accidental of touches just like she had always done.

He had found the strings after a few moments and began to undo them without much trouble. Before long, the restricting fabric of her dress began to loosen and when the strings were fully undone, the heavy material slid down, pooling around her feet. She stepped out of it, relieved to be freed of at least one layer of the thick fabric.

To her surprise, Mr. Todd followed her, taking a small step for every one that she took herself. The corset had been tied by no one but herself that day and she knew she was able to take it off without much trouble. The barber's hands however reached for the laces that kept together the last fabric that covered her as well and before she knew it, he was undoing those too. The nightgown that she was still holding fell out of her numb hands when she realized what he was doing.

Mrs. Lovett stood very still, not knowing whether she should say or do anything. She had fantasized for many years how it would be to be undressed by the barber; she would've given a lot to make such a dream come true. But now that it was happening after all, she didn't know whether this was such a good thing. Only moments ago she had decided that it was for the best just to spend this night asleep only to continue to get to know the barber and his attentions the next day, but now that he was taking off her corset, she wasn't so certain about this conclusion any longer.

The decision was made however as soon as his fingers brushed accidentally against her skin. The touch was one that she simply couldn't resist, but it was one of such a kind that it was clear to the baker that he hadn't done it on purpose. He was only doing this to help her, nothing more than that. He had probably gotten caught up in the process, something she didn't blame him for. She knew with absolute certainty that she herself would be very distracted indeed as she would be taking off the barber's clothing like this.

So she let him undo one piece of string after the next, feeling how he used his fingertips instead of his eyes to find out where the strings actually were. After a moment the corset too slid off her body and as soon as it fell on the floor, the baker found herself wrapping her arms around herself, intuitively covering her now fully exposed upper body even though it was completely dark and he thus couldn't see her anyway. She vaguely realized that she was holding her breath, awaiting Mr. Todd's reaction with both nervousness and anticipation.

After a long moment, there was the slightest pressure on her hips as he placed his hands there. The baker shivered in spite of herself as she felt his touch on her bare skin, his hands much warmer than she had expected them to be. His breath was hot as well as it reached her cheek and in spite of the relative chilliness of the bedroom, the baker began to sweat.

But instead of sliding those hands down her body like she had thought he would, he only guided her to turn around, so she was standing in his direction and her back was not facing him any longer.

Even though she was rid of the corset, breathing was more difficult than ever before now that she was waiting for whatever it was that Mr. Todd was going to do. She still felt that it would be better if they would wait for a moment that she could at least see him and wouldn't have to be quiet because of the boy sleeping so close to them, but at the same time she knew herself well enough to realize that she didn't have the strength and willpower to stop him now, whatever he was going to do.

There was no sign however of the violent passion she had almost come to expect. Instead, he slowly pulled her closer to him, giving her the opportunity to stop him. His hands were gentle and only the slight tremble in them betrayed the nature of the situation.

He guided her closer to himself until she was standing right in front of him, their bodies touching. His movements were still controlled when he carefully wrapped his arms around her until he was fully embracing her and rested his head on her shoulder.

Realizing that his plans hadn't been as wild as she had thought and that he longed at that moment just as much for innocent physical comfort as she did herself, she relaxed and returned his embrace fully. There was a groan of appreciation when her breasts were pressed against his chest, but he gave no other sign of his apparent attraction to her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, making herself more comfortable against him, as her eyes fluttered close once more. With the darkness that surrounded them and the way he touched her so gently that it almost made it seem as if he wasn't there at all, made it slightly difficult for her to believe that this too was actually happening and that she wasn't lost in another dream.

His hands came to rest on the small of her now fully uncovered back and she shivered lightly when his hands came in contact with her bare skin once more. When she didn't show any sign of objection, he began to move his fingers slowly, caressing her lower back with tenderness.

The baker sighed, fully relaxing when the pleasant sensations that were caused by the gentle touches spread through her entire body. She had never known or even imagined that a touch like this could be so seductive without making her irrational with lust. It was what she had been looking for without realizing it herself.

Probably sensing how much she liked to be touched like this, the barber moved his hands upwards, expanding the area that he was tempting with his fingers. Before long, his strokes covered the entire surface of her back, but his hands never moved below the edge of her bloomers. He probably knew how thin the ice was that they were currently treading on, that one too bold touch would make an end to the last remains of her self control.

But both of them were completely content with the current moment. Mrs. Lovett kept wondering how it could be that the simple and relatively innocent caresses felt so incredibly good, but she would think about it later – for now, she simply enjoyed the way the barber was stroking her back as much as she could, completely surrendering to the feelings of delight that he caused.

The way Mr. Todd hadn't allowed himself even the smallest bit of relative luxury when he had returned to London after his banishment had made absolutely clear to the baker that he was a very disciplined man. She knew he could control himself when he wanted to, when he was convinced of the truth of something, and that was why she was now relieved that he didn't want to take things further even now that they somewhat had the change. No matter how much she was looking forward to sleep with him at last, sharing more with him than just a few nights was what she longed for most.

"Nellie," he said at length. "We haven't seen each other for ten years. But even if we had... I have to admit that I hardly know who you truly are. I want to get to know you and I... I hope that you are willing to give me that chance."

Mrs. Lovett was speechless. She had expected a lot of things, but not this. Only now that he had said those words to her, she realized that there were even better things he could offer her than a declaration of love.

There was a moment of silence and she could basically feel his despair to hear her answer, but she found it difficult to talk, because there was nothing that she could say that could truly contain how happy she was to hear him say this, how grateful she was to find out that he wanted to get to know her to such an extent.

So she kissed him instead, reaching for him in the darkness and actually finding his mouth with her own without much trouble. Neither of them dominated the kiss this time, both of them giving and taking simultaneously, nipping and licking and sucking in a pace that was neither slow nor fast, until she no longer knew where Sweeney Todd ended and she herself begun.

She understood now what his intentions had been when he had began to caress her the way he had. He was getting to know her, both emotionally and physically. Judging from the way he had been doing so, he was taking his time, as if they had plenty of this in front of them. Mrs. Lovett found the prospect a promising one indeed.

The kiss left her almost whimpering, the feeling of his complete surrender to her and her love overpowering her more than anything he had ever done to her. The memories of the darkest hours they had spent together in Fleet Street were forced to the background of her consciousness, where they would stay from now on, as he kissed them away and replaced them with promises of a future with nothing but light.

Her knees were weakening as their kiss continued to consume her, but before she was actually aware of this he had lifted her up already, making sure she didn't have to pay attention to her legs any longer and could focus completely on their kiss. She felt free now that the corset and dress were gone and there was nothing that prevented her from wrapping her legs safely around the barber's waist.

"Tell me," he breathed when the kiss came to an end at last, "tell me what you like."

He began to stroke her back again, touching different spots and applying different levels of pressure with his skilled hands.

"I'm afraid that that is quite difficult at the moment," the baker managed to say, even after breathing in deeply several times having difficulty doing so, trying to calm down the frantic beat of her heart, which had fastened just as much because of the realization of to which extent the barber shared her feelings and because of the actual pleasure that kissing him had given her.

The way he was touching her now however didn't make this any easier and even if she would've been able to talk properly, she wouldn't have been able to decide what kind of caress she liked most – all of them made her tremble with delight.

"I didn't necessarily mean talking," he said, but just the way he too struggled to form coherent words made it impossible for her to analyze how he made her feel, let alone put this into words.

She was breathing heavily, clinging now to the barber instead of simply holding on to him. Never before she had felt as wonderful as she did in the current moment and the thought that he was only caressing her back and didn't actively touch any other part of her body made this even more ironic. Even though a part of her had enjoyed the violent way he had kissed her earlier that day and she had gotten a very brief but good taste of what it could feel like if he touched her intimately without being consumed by anger, she vaguely realized that this felt even better. And although she wondered, for as far as she was still capable of this, how it would feel like if he concentrated with this intense focus and tenderness on the rest of her body, she was perfectly happy that his hands never went below her back.

Just when she thought that it couldn't possibly get any better, his fingertips ran down her spine in a way that actually made her moan with satisfaction. She hid her face in the material of his shirt, wanting to mute the sound so she didn't wake Teddy. The barber had heard her however.

"That's what I meant," Sweeney said, clearly pleased to have found a way to touch her that she liked particularly.

He repeated the motion, again, and again, until the baker was nothing but a shivering mass, tears welling in her eyes simply because his touch was impossibly perfect, even when it was this innocent. She wanted to touch him as well, to try to make him feel at least a bit of what she was experiencing, but she was too lost in a whole new world of physical and mental delight to do so.

"Look at that," he said after an unmeasurable amount of time had passed.

She opened her eyes, having no idea what he was referring to – until she saw that the entire bedroom was illuminated by moonlight. There turned out to be an enormous window right above the bed. It was part of the roof, not unlike the big window that had been part of his barber shop. This one was even bigger however and looked out over the park that the baker had seen earlier.

She hadn't noticed it before because the moon and stars that she could see now had been veiled with thick clouds, their blackness making it seem as if there was no glass at all. But now could she both look around the room without the light of a candle, just like she could see the barber and herself in the reflection of the glass.

This image showed them with equally dark hair and both with skin just as pale as the moonlight. Seeing herself with only her bloomers and stockings on while being embraced by the barber made the situation even more overwhelming, as if it had become actually tangible now that she could see the both of them. For a long time she could only stare, not fully able to believe that what she was seeing in the window's reflection was actually reality.

"We should go to sleep," he said quietly, putting her down on the ground.

No matter how much the baker had enjoyed his unusual but very pleasant touches, she knew that he was right. The moment was clearly ended now that the darkness was gone, as if their union was too much after all in real life. Or at least, for the time being.

He bend down to retrieve the nightdress that she had dropped earlier; it was easy to spot now that the starlight made its way into the bedroom.

"Here," he said, shielding his eyes when he gave her the item of clothing and turning his back to her as soon as he had done so, giving her the privacy that both of them needed in order not to lose their self control after all.

Although she hadn't worn it for years and Mr. Todd had apparently owned it for the majority of this time, the fabric easily slid to its usual place as if it hadn't been separated from her for a decade after all.

As soon as she was covered again, she headed back to the bed, seeing him do the same thing as soon as he heard her footsteps. Not entirely sure what to do next, she watched him pull back the blankets and get in bed himself. She only slid between them as well when he gave her an encouraging nod. He moved to her immediately, taking her in his arms before she was even lying still.

She hadn't considered what she would do as soon as she was in bed again with Mr. Todd, but she came to a decision soon enough. Aware now that the barber knew better than to launch himself at her when Teddy was sleeping in the same bed, she lay down in such a way that she could face him, his pale features illuminated beautifully by the light of the moon that was still not bothered by clouds. Her back was towards Teddy and although she was aware that her nephew was there, she didn't feel awkward because of his presence any longer.

She made herself comfortable in his arms, but knew that she would only be able to relax after a while, when she would be convinced once more that this was truly happening. He gazed at her with a look that made clear that he didn't understand what she was doing when she was looking at him like that.

"Just let me," she whispered, admiring the pale skin that she had noticed earlier. The reflection had made his skin looked whiter than it actually was; in reality, it looked a lot better, especially in comparison with the sickly grayish color that his skin had had when they were still in Fleet Street. The baker vaguely realized that her skin was still looking just like that – and perhaps even worse – but she refused to waste any more time on the subject at that moment.

She leaned on her arms as she closed the distance between them, lips brushing against his throat while her hand reached for his side, gently caressing him through the fabric of his nightshirt.

He let out a quiet sigh of delight as she did so and she was very pleased indeed to find out that she too could bewitch him like this. After some shifting and trying, he ended up lying on his side, she right next to him. This way, she had full access to his neck and shoulder, lips brushing lightly against those parts of his skin when her arm went around his waist, her hand resting against his stomach. It was just as lean and firm as she had always thought, but there was a part of him that she was more interested in at that moment. She twisted her arm until it was lying over Sweeney Todd's rapidly beating heart.

She almost felt how the barber was gradually feeling asleep, both the rhythm of his heartbeat and breath decreasing. She was amazed that this was happening; as far as she had known him, Mr. Todd had hardly slept at all, especially not when she was even only remotely close to him. But now he had no trouble falling asleep – if anything, she had only helped him in achieving it.

Hoping that he could still feel it, but most of all eager to continue just because she had the chance now, she remained kissing him softly, lips moving against his neck with the lightest of touches.

"You two are disgusting," she heard a sleepy voice almost right next to her head say.

The baker almost jumped with shock, having been convinced that the boy was sleeping. But apparently, he had heard at least some of the most recent interaction between the barber and himself.

"And you don't even know him!"

Mrs. Lovett was for a moment too horrified to be aware of the teasing undertone of his voice. Only then she realized that the boy was simply making fun of her in his own little way, probably still because of the fact that she had ended up in a few rather intimate and public situations with Mr. Todd, even though she had raised Teddy with more solid moral values - or had tried to, at least.

But even though he was teasing her, the baker felt that the sooner she convinced the boy of her true feelings for Mr. Todd, the better it would be.

"I do know him," she said quietly, very much aware of the barber's arms that were wrapped tightly around her once more. "Do you remember when I told you today that I lived in Fleet Street? Near that alley where we met him and Victoria – where you were building the snowman? I used to live there, with him. He was my tenant."

"Do you love him?" he asked, in a way only a six year old could.

It took her a moment to catch up with the rather abrupt jump of the young boy's mind, but his question wasn't difficult to answer.

"I do," she said, knowing that those two words were truer than anything else in her life, even after what he had done to hear ten years ago.

"All right," Teddy said, as if that was all that he wanted to hear – and maybe, it was. "Good night Mum."

He cuddled against her and within minutes, the rhythm of his breath was as quiet and slow as the one of the barber lying on the other side of her. The baker smiled a little, hoping that there would come a day that the boy didn't change subjects faster than she could keep up with – and that there would come a moment that he would understand that Mr. Todd was so much more than a man who she had happened to meet only that day.

Having had a long and exhausting day herself, the baker was being overtaken by sleep as well.

For a moment she thought that Mr. Todd shifted next to her, moving his mouth to her ear.

"I heard that," he whispered.

But before she could figure out whether he had actually moved and spoken, whether it could be possible that he had been awake all this time and had only pretended to be asleep, sleep claimed her at last. Thus she had no idea whether the words he said next were actually spoken by him, or that they only existed in her mind.

"I love you too."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

When the baker woke again, several hours later, the bedroom was still dark. There was some very early daylight coming into the room via the huge window in the roof that she and the barber had looked through earlier that night. She realized now that the window must be facing the east, letting in the first rays of what promised to be a sunny day of early spring. Just like earlier that night however, the sky was still dominated by brightly shining stars.

Blinking so her eyes could adjust to the lack of light, the baker looked around. The room that she was in – Mr. Todd's bedroom, she liked to remind herself – was larger than she had thought. The bed, that was big indeed, was standing in the middle of the room, only its headboard touching the wall, which was located directly below the large window. As far as she could see from her position in the bed, there was a wardrobe in one corner and a table with a small mirror in another.

The most important thing however was missing. Mrs. Lovett realized with a jolt of shock that Sweeney wasn't with her, even though Teddy was still next to her, fast asleep.

"He's working," a voice behind her said.

The baker turned around quickly, finding Victoria sitting on a small stool in the darkest corner of the room, which was also the one that was the most far away from the bed. It almost seemed as if she wanted to dissociate her from the woman and the child that were occupying the room already.

"He leaves every morning at five o'clock to go to his first customers of the day."

It made perfect sense to the baker, remembering that Sweeney had told her that he didn't have his own tonsorial parlor any more but visited his rich customers at home now. She wouldn't have been able to recall it with Victoria's help however, feeling lonely now that the barber was gone, if only for a while, even though Teddy was sleeping next to her and she was talking to Mr. Todd's ward at that very moment.

"He asked me to let you know that he will be back at approximately seven o'clock, which is in a little less than an hour."

"Thank you," the baker said, sincerely grateful that the girl had sat there to give her Sweeney's message, just in case she'd wake up before the barber himself returned.

The girl just nodded and Mrs. Lovett realized again how quiet the girl was, never saying more than what was necessary. She knew now that the girl's life had been far from perfect so far, but Victoria's behavior seemed rather unnatural even with her status as an orphan in mind.

"You're welcome," the girl hastily added, almost as if she had read the baker's thoughts. Or, more likely, Mr. Todd had given her instructions to act politely to the woman who was sleeping in his bed. "I shall be going then."

"Victoria!" she found herself calling after the girl.

She didn't want the girl just to leave like that. Mrs. Lovett had the feeling that if she wanted to form a bond with Mr. Todd's ward, she had to do so now. And she wanted to do such a thing indeed. Not only because the girl lived in Mr. Todd's house and the baker would be living there as well for at least a short while and they might as well get along; but it was mostly because Nellie recognized a child in need when she saw one and Victoria was certainly such a girl. She lived in material luxury but had lost her parents years ago and even though she was sure that Sweeney did a good job of looking after the girl, he was still a man who wasn't exactly cuddly and had known his own daughter for less than a year.

Both the girl and the woman seemed surprised for a moment that Mrs. Lovett had actually called after her, but as the girl's brown eyes scrutinized her, her gaze betraying some of her surprise and curiosity, the baker felt that this was the right thing to do.

Remembering that Mr. Todd had told her that Victoria liked to watch stars, she gestured at the large room above her.

"Would you like to take a look?"

Victoria nodded rather shyly and approached the bed, sitting down on its edge.

"Come here," the baker said, patting at a free part of the mattress next to herself. "You can see the stars much better from here."

Casting a glance at the sleeping boy as if to reassure herself that she wasn't doing something forbidden, she did as Nellie suggested.

"I'm told that you know quite a lot about them."

Mr. Todd hadn't actually said so, but she sensed that it was safe to assume that Victoria did. She wanted to give the girl a bit more confidence to actually talk about the stars.

"Mr. Barker has been exaggerating, I'm afraid," Victoria said, blushing slightly.

Mrs. Lovett was confused for a moment because of the way the girl referred to the barber, but then remembered that he had changed his name again in order not to be recognized as the demon barber from Fleet Street. The baker mate a mental note to call him by his old name as well, or at least in public.

"And besides, I don't think we should talk at all. Teddy is sleeping."

"Don't worry about him," she replied, "he sleeps through everything. You can talk as much as you want, and he won't wake up."

It wasn't entirely true – she recalled an incident that had taken place only hours ago – but she didn't want the girl to be even more on edge than she already was. And besides, Teddy would probably only be happy to wake up with his new friend so close to him.

Victoria lay down rather awkwardly next to the baker, clearly not at ease in the presence of the woman. But when she caught a first glance at the glorious view that the window had to offer of the endless sky above, Victoria obviously became more pleased with the idea.

"I love to come up here," she said even before the baker tried to get her to talk. "From here, it almost seems as if you can touch the stars."

"Can you tell me about them?" Mrs. Lovett asked, hoping to get a conversation started with the girl with the help of a subject that Victoria was clearly interested in.

The girl began to speak, a bit hesitantly at first, but with more and more confidence as time passed. She told Nellie what the most important stars were and where they were visible in the sky, and told her about the myths that were told about them and the way they were regarded in modern science.

The baker was hugely impressed by Victoria's knowledge; she knew a lot more about the stars than she had thought. And although she hadn't really expected it, Mrs. Lovett found herself actually intrigued by what the girl was telling her. She was also gradually approached by the girl, Victoria coming closer and closer to her to point at the stars she was talking about. The baker was glad to see that whatever uncertainties the girl seemed to have had regarding her were disappearing.

In some of the novels that Nellie Lovett liked to read, it was said that people's fates were written in the stars. She had never believed it, but now that she was lying in the comfortable bed with her nephew and the barber's ward on either side of her, remembering a wonderful night and anticipating a day that would possibly get much, much better, she couldn't help but wonder if it was true after all. The way she had met the barber again the day before and the way he shared her feelings now were on first sight completely coincidental and impossible – albeit ironic – no matter how bizarre they were. But maybe it was decided long ago that this was supposed to happen, that the barber would be hers one day as long as she waited long enough for him – and she had.

The girl's voice however faltered in the middle of a sentence about Polaris. Mrs. Lovett looked at her, tearing her eyes away from the balls of light far above them. She opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but she recognized the look in the girl's eyes before she had the chance to do so.

"I've always wanted to have a mother," Victoria whispered. "And by now I don't care any longer whether she's my real mother or not."

The baker was moved by the emotion in the girl's voice. It was obvious that she was very pleased with the way Mr. Todd looked after her, but that there was something missing that only a motherly figure could provide. Mrs. Lovett would love to be that woman and she yearned to pull the girl closer to her, to hug her just like she would embrace Teddy and used to hold Toby. She told herself to wait however, sensing that Victoria had to act on her own accord.

The girl hesitated even as she moved slightly towards the baker, clearly wanting to get closer to her but unsure whether she really could and should do so.

"It's all right love," Mrs. Lovett said, "there's nothing to be afraid of."

Convinced now, Victoria moved closer to her, but her movements were still uncertain and her eyes never broke their contact with the baker's, as if she wanted to pick up any sign of rejection as quickly as possible.

After another moment however the girl was completely within Mrs. Lovett's reach. When the girl rested her head rather awkwardly on her shoulder, the baker wrapped her arms around Victoria, pulling her closer to her.

The girl was tense as she did so, obviously not used to receive physical affection like this. But the baker just held her, sensing that Victoria was going to relax sooner or later. And indeed, after several minutes, she finally seemed to realize that the baker didn't mind at all to hold her like this. She released a breath that she had obviously been holding for quite some time and made herself more comfortable in the baker's arms.

"I don't know if you're going to stay here, and if you do, for how long," Victoria said, her face illuminated by the first rays of sunlight that made their way into the attic that served as Mr. Todd's bedroom. "It's none of my business. But I hope that you can stay for a long time."

"So do I," the baker replied, smiling lightly. "So do I."

Mrs. Lovett sighed inwardly as she spoke. She had been in the house for not even a day, but now she already felt like she had always been there. And if there was one thing that she was sure of, it was that she never wanted to leave again – and she was rather sure that Teddy shared her opinion.

For the first time since she had been a little girl, she felt as if she was part of a family. Although the house was in London and not by the sea and these children were not hers and the barber's, this was the life that she had always dreamed of. Now that she had found out what it could be like to actually live here with Sweeney Todd, she couldn't imagine herself spending the rest of her life any other way.

The decision wasn't hers to make however. All what she could do for now was staying in bed with the two children, waiting for the barber to come home.

When the baker woke up again, she felt better than she had done in a long time. She was completely rested and for once, her stomach wasn't growling with hunger. Her back wasn't aching because of the thin mattress of her equally old bed and instead of darkness, she was greeted by bright sunlight that streamed into the room that she had slept in.

Both Teddy and Victoria were nowhere to be seen, but Mr. Todd was in the middle of her view, sitting on the stool that Victoria had occupied earlier that morning. He had placed it in the middle of the room, right in front of the bed, so he could keep a good look on her. She had no idea for how long he had been there, watching her, but the knowledge that he had been doing so for at least a while was a very pleasant one.

"Good morning," she said, the first thing that came to her mind.

The two words couldn't have been more accurate. On a usual day she said them dozens of times, mostly to her customers and colleagues when she had still worked in the bakery. It had been nothing but a greeting, something she said because she and so many others always did so. Those days had without exception however been nothing but good.

"Good morning," he replied.

But this, the baker knew with absolute certainty, was going to be a good morning indeed.

He stood up from the stool to sit down on the edge of the bed. It was clear that he was very eager to do so; Mrs. Lovett was surprised that he hadn't actually woken her up in order to talk to her again. It was not that she would've minded, but after having been gone through some particularly exhausting months and having just had a night that had been filled with activities that had been far different from sleeping, she was grateful to be as rested as she currently was.

She had no idea what this day was going to bring her, seeing how completely unexpected the previous one had turned out to be, but it might be going to be even more intense than the one that had just passed. But whatever was going to happen, she was as ready now for it as she would ever be.

Mr. Todd moved over her as she was still lying comfortably in the bed. He kissed her cheek and as Mrs. Lovett closed her eyes as he did so, savoring the touch of his lips, she hoped that this morning would be followed by many, many more good ones.

"Did you sleep well?"

"I did," she replied.

She fully realized for the first time that she had spent the night sleeping in a bed with Sweeney Todd right next to her. That was quite memorable indeed, but she had been so overtaken by everything that had happened in the most recent hours that had passed to let this knowledge dawn on her fully.

Now that she did however, she was mostly amused by the fact that this had happened but that it hadn't gone further than that. For years she had been convinced that if they would actually end up in the same bed, this would be to do things quite opposite of sleeping - and that he would be gone as soon as it would've been over.

But this night he had slept at her side, simply holding her, and if it hadn't been for his work he would've still been there when she woke earlier that morning. Even when they had kissed and caressed each other, they hadn't gone further than that. The baker was obviously still hoping that this would change in the near future, but she was very happy with how things between them were going so far. They were completely different from what she had always imagined, but this was by far the most pleasant – and sustainable - scenario.

"I slept very well," she added, feeling that she couldn't make that clear enough to him.

Talking to him however wasn't what she wanted most. Very much aware of the way he was still hovering above her, she reached for his hair, pulling at it lightly to bring his face closer to her own once more.

When the distance was small enough, she had the courage to bring her mouth to his own, kissing him on the lips. It was a short and chaste kiss; she didn't dare doing anything more than that, not familiar yet with the way Sweeney reacted to her now.

As soon as she moved away from her however he followed her, his lips touching hers again. They lingered there for a moment, letting the baker know that he was quite happy with the way she had just greeted him.

She was tempted to take a hold of his neck and pull him on top of her, letting him know just how much she liked to wake up in his bed like this. Remembering the weakness of his leg however, she decided against it, not knowing how Sweeney would end up if she'd do so.

The kiss was slow and gentle, almost leisurely. It was for the baker a delight that he was kissing her like this, indicating that he wasn't in a hurry at all. It was a relief that his kiss told her that they wouldn't separate their ways anytime soon and although it was rather clear to her by now that he wouldn't do so anyway, it was pleasant to see it confirmed like this.

She had been asleep only a moment before and as he was kissing her, she awoke fully. It was almost as if he was kissing her awake and even when he was doing so, she couldn't help but wish that there would follow many, many mornings that would begin like this.

When he broke away slightly, there was a hint of a smile on his face. Not an actual smile – she wasn't even sure if his facial muscles were still capable of that – but it came close enough.

"I slept very well," she repeated, wanting to make very clear to him how much she had enjoyed everything that had happened that night – and not just sleeping - without revealing too much of how much unlike her usual nights they had been, during which she hadn't even been able to dream of such quiet and tender moments. She wasn't ashamed of those times no longer, but she simply didn't want to be reminded of them.

Looking at him, she suddenly recalled the short moment that had passed when she had fallen asleep in his arms several hours ago. Even now that the night had ended and she was fully awake, she couldn't determine with certainty whether he had really told her that he loved her, or that it had simply been another dream. The latter seemed much more likely, but she wanted to be absolutely sure of it. Just asking him however felt wrong – and it was not as if she had the courage to do so anyway. In spite of everything that had happened, she was afraid of the answer.

"How about you?" she asked, realizing that the barber looked very rested himself as well.

Mrs. Lovett still had to get used to the way he looked now; except from the more pronounced lines on his face and slightly graying hair, there was nothing that hinted that he had aged ten years since she had seen him for the last time. Because of the time that had passed since she had seen him for the last time, she had some trouble reminding the way his face had looked a decade ago in detail to begin with, so her judgment wasn't completely reliable. But still, she was convinced that he looked a lot healthier now than he had done ten years ago.

This wasn't so strange, seeing the way he lived now, but the baker had learned that physical wellness was only a part of one's health. But as she looked at him, studied his face in the bright sunlight, she didn't find a single sign on his face that betrayed that he was still haunted by the ghosts of the past.

"I slept very well too, thank you," he replied, the right corner of his mouth visibly moving upwards. It still wasn't an actual smile, but the baker sensed that it was an expression that was rarely seen on his face after all. She felt pride for having caused it. "I didn't want to leave this morning, but I had to get to work."

"I understand," she said, hoping that it was clear to him that she truly didn't mind.

"You slept a lot last night so I had thought that you'd be awake again by the time I had to leave. But you were sleeping so quietly and I didn't want to disturb you."

"Thank you," she said again.

She was indeed grateful now that he hadn't woken her. It would've been a lot more difficult if she would've known that he had to leave for two hours.

"Victoria told me that you were gone to work but would return soon."

"I asked her to do so, yes. I had the feeling that you would want to know that I..."

The barber's voice faltered, a strange look appearing in his eyes.

"When I returned here this morning, I found you with Victoria and Teddy. The three of you were sleeping, but still holding each other. I sat here for hours, watching you and the children, trying to persuade myself that I wasn't dreaming."

He looked at her, as if he couldn't fully believe that she was lying in his bed even now.

"I kept thinking that you were going to disappear right in front of my eyes. But Teddy woke, and so did Victoria a short while later. They were _real_, so you had to be too – but when I was watching you, I was afraid to blink or look away for a moment, because I still felt that you would be gone as soon as I did."

"I'm real," she whispered, shocked and delighted that the barber was thinking about her that way – she would've felt exactly the same if their roles had been reversed.

To proof her point, she kissed him again, sighing with delight when the kiss deepened and he lowered himself next to her.

A breathless minute later, Mr. Todd was quite convinced indeed. He lay down next to her when the kiss came to its end, resting his head on her shoulder.

Feeling bold, Mrs. Lovett took his hand in her own, wanting to be connected to him like that even though she wasn't sure whether he was willing to let her take such liberties with his person. He simply allowed her to do so however, caressing her hand with his thumb to show her just how much he didn't mind.

"Victoria and Teddy are having breakfast now with Mrs. Clint," the barber said after a while, aware of her question before she had asked it. "I suggested them to go to the park as soon as they're done eating."

They were quiet for a while, looking at nothing in particular in the sunlit room while making sure to stay very close to each other. Mrs. Lovett tried to suppress the thought that this meant that she and the barber were going to have the large house all to themselves and wouldn't have to worry about the children hearing and seeing things that they shouldn't. The knowledge that this was going to happen soon was indescribably pleasant, but just thinking of how Mr. Todd and she might take advantage of the situation was overwhelming to such extent that she preferred not to think about it just not yet.

"I'll get us something to eat as well," he said at length, probably reminding how hungry she had been last night only now. Now that she too was slightly getting used again to Sweeney's close presence, she felt that she was quite eager to have breakfast indeed. Although she wasn't by far as hungry as she had been the night before, she certainly would like to eat a big and proper morning meal.

He stood up and left the bedroom quickly, obviously wanting to return there as soon as he could.

When he was gone, Mrs. Lovett took the opportunity to take a look at the room that she had spent the night in now that it was filled with daylight. Although the bedroom was very large and there hardly wasn't much furniture except for the large bed, the room wasn't overly big or intimidating at all. She had the feeling that it may have something to do with the gentle color of the wallpaper – a nice shade of brown that he would've detested ten years ago – or the curtains, that were so unlike the sad pieces of material that she was used to.

He came back after a few minutes, carrying a large tray with them. She was glad to see that Mr. Todd had taken a very generous quantity of food with him. Although still not as hungry as she had been earlier, her stomach was growling at the sight of the plates of food.

She sat up, placing her pillow against the headboard of the bed so she could lean against it. Mr. Todd did the same thing as he sat down next to her, placing the tray in between them.

The sandwiches that he had taken with him were delicious. It didn't come as a surprise, but the baker appreciated their quality almost just as much as the fact that she was having a proper breakfast, with the barber himself of all people.

"I talked to Victoria this morning," Mrs. Lovett said when she had eaten two sandwiches. "She is a nice girl, but she's..."

She didn't know exactly what she wanted to say with this, but she just wanted the barber to know that they had spoken to each other that morning. The two of them were getting along a lot better now than before, but there was still something about the girl that disturbed her a little.

"I know," Sweeney replied. "But she doesn't do it on purpose. I think she's trying to protect herself. After her parents died, she seems to expect anyone she cares about to die or disappear."

Mr. Todd paused for a moment and the baker wondered just how much he recognized those feelings as his own.

"She was also afraid that I didn't want her to live here anymore now that I took you and Teddy with me. I told her that this is absolutely not the case and that she has nothing to fear. Things may change, but those changes will be for better – for all of us."

Mrs. Lovett nodded, realizing now why the girl had acted so hostile towards her when the four of them had traveled in the carriage. It hadn't been personal, but it was a rather unfortunate attempt of Victoria to intimidate the older woman to try to get her away from her guardian.

"I hope you don't mind," he said, looking up at her abruptly as if he suddenly realized that she might be bothered by what he just had said.

"About what?" she asked, her mind still processing the last words he had just said, about good changes for all of four of them.

"About Victoria, living with us. I know that this wasn't what you had in mind all those years ago – none of it is, probably – but she is staying here. I have no other choice, but even if I had... she's staying. I hope you understand."

"It's all right," she said, taking his hand in her own once more to show him the sincerity of her words.

It was true that her dreams of a cozy cottage and seaside wedding had never included the presence of a twelve year old ward of the barber, but ten years ago she hadn't been able to predict that she would lose Toby and end up raising her nephew instead. Actually, deep inside of her she had known all along that Mr. Todd and she would never live by the seaside – or live together at all. And yet, here they were.

Besides, no matter how much the baker wanted it to be otherwise, she was too old now to have children of her own – for as far as she had ever been able to in the first place. She knew that Sweeney and she could never have a child together; it was one of the prices they were going to have to pay for the long time it had taken them to truly find each other.

The baker however had looked after quite some children that weren't her own throughout the years and although she would've preferred those to be her own, this had never stopped her from loving them like a mother would. Victoria wouldn't be an exception.

"But you don't mind about Teddy, do you? I know he's... well, he can be quite a nuisance, but he's a good boy."

"He can stay here, of course," the barber said, as if the idea that he didn't want her nephew to be there as well was a ridiculous one. "He belongs with you, just like Victoria belongs with me."

She was very glad to hear that. The choice between Teddy and Mr. Todd would've been a cruel one.

The most important question however wasn't answered yet. She didn't know about what amount of time the barber was talking about. How long did he intend for Teddy and her to stay? Was he talking about weeks, months, or even longer than that? Or maybe he would realize soon that she wasn't who he had thought her to be and would throw her out of his house after all. It was indeed not as if his apparent feelings for her were actually build on anything – or at least, they weren't based on something that she could fully rely on. She hardly knew him and the same went for his knowledge regarding her. This time, she wasn't the only one who had been living partly in a world of make-believe.

She was tempted to ask him for how long he wanted her to stay, just like she still wanted to know whether he had truly told her that he loved her that night or that this had indeed been nothing but another illusion. She didn't do so however – she was afraid of the answer.

They finished their breakfast in silence. It was a comfortable and amiable one however and although the baker loved to talk, especially to the barber, and she was eager to get to know more about his current life – to get to know _him – _she wasn't bothered by the quietness.

Even when they were eating, her head rested on his shoulder and his left arm was wrapped around her body. For the moment convinced that nothing could go wrong, or at least not in the very near future, she simply enjoyed the food and the barber's presence, trying not to remind herself too much how unbelievable it was that she had both now.

When both of them had eaten as much as they wanted, Sweeney placed the tray on his nightstand. Making sure that the item was out of the way, he turned back to her. When he was almost next to her again however he remained sitting still, looking at her with wide eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked, shocked by the expression on his face.

"Your hair," he muttered, not taking his gaze away from her.

Nervousness rising up within her, she moved her hands to her hair, having no idea what he was talking about.

Her fingers moved through the messy locks, to her relief finding nothing that appeared to be strange about it. He kept staring at her however and she wondered if there was something stuck in her hair or something like that. She wanted to get a mirror to see for herself what was going on, but she felt captured by the barber's attention and found it impossible to move.

"It's beautiful."

The baker looked at him strangely. The long locks were still down and although this perhaps wasn't very appropriate, it was not as if hadn't seen her like this before. He himself had removed the pins that usually held her hair up after all and it was not as if she knew what he had done with them – or wanted to find out.

"The sunlight," he said, as if that explained everything.

Only when he reached for her hair, running his hands through the auburn curls, and she could see the locks from the corners of her eyes, she realized what he was talking about. The bright morning sun was illuminating her hair, giving it a bright red glow, making it seem as if her hair was even more fiery than usual.

She looked at the barber as he was admiring her hair, oblivious to her attention. The look in his dark eyes was one of complete awe and if she hadn't seen her own reflection in them, she wouldn't have believed that she was the one who was responsible for this.

"Beautiful," he repeated, and this time she was fully enjoying the way he pronounced those syllables, that flattered her more than anything that others had ever said to her.

His hands twined in the reddish locks, caressing them, as if he wanted to familiarize himself with each strand. The attention with which he did this reminded her of the way he had caressed her back that night and once again she couldn't help but wonder how it would feel if he extended the exquisite focus to the rest of her body.

He sat down on his knees in front of her, never removing his hands. Twining his fingers more firmly in her hair, he rested his forehead against hers, caressing her even as he did so. The barber was now within her reach and she too reached for him, carefully running her fingers through his locks. Although they had grown a little longer than she was used to, they weren't as wild as they once had been.

Their noses were touching as well and although Mrs. Lovett didn't know what he was doing, just sitting with him like that was a very pleasant experience. Thanks to the barber's presence and the spring sun she was warmer than she had been for a long time, and just thinking about the near future made her almost glow just like her hair.

The barber was so close to her that she thought that he was going to kiss her. But he sat back after a while. She missed him immediately, even though he was still within reach. There was nothing like the feeling however that he caused when he was actually touching her.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of an excited children's voice. Teddy's outburst was followed by a much more quiet response that she recognized to be Victoria's. The baker could hear a third voice, which must belong to Mrs. Clint. After a few moments, the front door of the large house was opened and closed again, the voices becoming inaudible once more if the three of them moved away from the house, leaving the barker and the barber all alone. Although the sounds had distracted both her and Mr. Todd, she couldn't care this time.

"They're gone," he said, a strange look appearing on his face that she found difficult to understand even now. "I'm going to prepare your bath."

The slight disappointment that she had felt because he moved away from her disappeared immediately. She had completely forgotten the bath that he had promised her the day before, even though she had been so excited about it the previous evening, too caught up in the things that had happened since that moment. But now that she was reminded of the _slow, long and thorough_ bath that he had promised her, she was very eager indeed to take this bath at last.

Images of steam and pale skin entered her mind and she had to prevent herself from doing something that would betray how much she would like to take such a bath together with the barber. Although she was rather sure that he had suggested the night before that they were going to take a bath together, there was nothing that betrayed now that he was actually planning to do so. If he were, he would look at least slightly excited – or would he? His face was now a mask of neutrality once more.

Not wanting herself to expect too much, she forced herself to get used to the idea that she was going to bath alone. She could've asked him about his intentions, but once again she decided against it, not wanting to suggest too much so soon. But the wicked thoughts, that had appeared in her mind as soon as he had talked about taking a bath for the first time, just wouldn't leave her alone.

"If you want to take one," he said, misinterpreting her quietness.

"I do, very much," she said quickly, not wanting to let the opportunity pass. Even if she was going to bathe alone, it would be quite memorable as well, if only because she hadn't had the chance to actually do so for a long time.

Even when Mr. Todd was still sitting on the bed right next to her, looking at her as if he still wasn't convinced that she actually wanted to take a bath, Mrs. Lovett's overactive mind was once more going wild with possibilities already. This time not too tired to actually do so, she was lightly shivering with desire even as the oblivious man was still sitting opposite her.

As the barber moved out of the bedroom, it was even easier for her mind to come up with the most tempting situations, because she now didn't have to hide any longer just how much she would like to take a bath with _him._

"Wait here," he called as he descended the chairs. "I'll call you when it's ready."

As she sat back against the pillows that were positioned against the headboard, her body perfectly comfortable and her mind swimming with the possibilities of taking a bath in the barber's house, she did just that.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

It took the barber quite a while to return to the bedroom to tell her that her bath was ready, but Mrs. Lovett didn't mind at all. The more time she spent in it, the more she became aware of how pleasant the bedroom actually was. She could stay there for hours, just watching the sun dance on the walls, feeling the soft mattress and pillow beneath her body. The best part however was that it was so obviously Sweeney Todd's bed. Although it was larger and more comfortable than she could've imagined, it bore the imprint of his body and it smelled like him; that was what she appreciated the most. It was indeed a very enjoyable place to be.

When he came back to her, she didn't know how much time had passed. It wasn't important however; she simply got out of the bed and followed him to the place where he was guiding here too, not bothered by the fact that she wasn't wearing much. Or rather, she didn't care that Sweeney saw her like this, wearing a worn nightdress with nothing beneath it and the lower half of her body only covered by her stockings, bloomers and the edge of her nightgown.

She was very much aware of the way the soft cotton was brushing against her skin, which was more sensitive than usual now that she had spent quite some time wondering what exactly could happen if the two of them would end up taking the bath that he had promised her together.

But even as he was showing her the way to the bad that he had prepared, there was no indication however that he had even been remotely thinking the way she had. His expression was unreadable once more. If it hadn't been for the slight curve of his mouth, she would've thought that he was still the same man as he had been ten years ago after all.

The usually outspoken baker still didn't have the courage to tell him what she would like to do most in the tub that was awaiting her. Trying to persuade herself that it didn't matter, she followed him without saying a word.

When doing so, Mrs. Lovett recognized the room that she had been in the day before at the end of the hallway – the room where she had found a lot of her former belongings in. Aware that she didn't have any clothes with her except for the few that she was currently wearing, she cast a questioning glance at the locked door.

This time, Sweeney didn't need words to understand what she was suggesting. Without saying anything himself, he took something from beneath his shirt. It was a thin cord with a key connected to it; the same one that he had given her the day before. Only now she found out that he apparently wore the key to that room that was dedicated to her on his actual person. The realization was both a shocking and a very flattering one.

Not aware of her reaction, he simply offered her the key once more. Knowing now exactly what to do with it, she unlocked the door again and moved inside quickly. She wasn't as bewildered as she had been the day before, when she had entered the room for the first time, but it was still rather bizarre to see all those things of her in such a different setting.

Not wanting to consider this, she made her way to the wardrobe that contained a lot of the clothing that she once had owned. Wanting to look as good and tidy as she could to the barber, eager to free herself of the lifestyle of the shabby woman she had been forced to be, she quickly took out new items of underclothing without really looking at them. Remembering the old dress that she had changed into the day before, she now chose a different one after a few seconds of consideration. It was seductive without being exposing, the colors capturing one's attention without being too bright. It was the only one of the dresses she had never worn before – she had bought it only days before she had fled from London – and it was simply the perfect choice for that day.

With the pile of clothing in her hands, she left the room again, locking the door behind her. She gave the key and the chain connected to it back to the barber, who pulled it over his head once more, pushing it beneath his shirt while he was still looking at her.

He opened a door that was somewhere in the middle of the hallway. He gestured her to go inside and she did so. When she had crossed the threshold, he closed the door behind her without following her, separating them with the wood that the door was made of. The baker was slightly disappointed – although she had sensed already that Mr. Todd wasn't going to follow her, she had secretly hoped that he would. He had basically suggested this to her the previous night, just before she had fallen asleep. She should have realized even then that he probably had only said it to persuade her to go to sleep, but it hadn't prevented her from hoping – indeed, there weren't many things that did.

But she knew very well that the barber and she had shared in less than one day already more than they had done in the lifetime before that. It didn't look like he was going to send her away soon and it was equally clear to her that at the speed their relationship was progressing now, they were bound to sleep together at last in the near future anyway.

She couldn't help but wish however that this was sooner than it actually would be. The day before, and even the night that had just ended, she had had her doubts – it just hadn't felt right for them to surrender body and soul to each at those moment. But now, feeling better than she had done for a very, very long time and having had a very good night of much needed sleep, she knew that she was ready. She just hoped that the barber too would be soon.

Those thoughts were forgotten however as soon as she turned around, away from the door, and took a good look at the room that she was currently in for the first time. It wasn't very big and there wasn't any kind of decoration, but even if there would've been, she wouldn't have noticed it for quite some time. Her eyes were drawn to the wooden bathtub that was standing in the middle of the room. From Mr. Todd's words she had concluded that the tub was quite large but not very much so. Now she found out that this had been quite an understatement. The tub was the biggest one she had ever seen. There was room for three people, at least – for two persons, it would be better than perfect. Her own tub – which was almost too small even for her, and was located in the eternally dark and unpleasant bakehouse – simply paled in comparison.

There was a lock on the door, a small and elegant key protruding from it, but she didn't pay any attention to it. There was no one else there and it was not as if Sweeney Todd would accidentally walk in as long as she was there. And even if he would, she wasn't the one who would be bothered by such a thing.

The tub was almost entirely filled with water, steam coming off its surface. A smile appeared on her face, the thought of a luxury such as taking a bath here making her happier than she already was, which was quite an accomplishment indeed. For a moment she closed her eyes, as if this was a dream after all and everything would have disappeared as soon as she opened them again.

But when she looked once more, everything was still there just like it had been before. After the short moment of darkness that closing her eyes had caused, it was only more clear how bright the room was. Here too the morning sun was spreading its warm light, reaching the room through a long and narrow window just below the ceiling, the glass made in a special, somewhat blurry way that prevented people from looking into the room – as far as they would do so on that height anyway.

Unable to wait any longer, the baker placed the pile of clothing that she was still carrying on a small table that she spotted in a corner of the small room. Without a second of hesitation, she pulled the nightdress over her head, just throwing it on the white tiles of the floor. Her stockings and her bloomers followed immediately after that and the baker held her breath in anticipation when she stepped towards the large tub.

There was a mirror next to the bathtub, probably there to make the process of unclothing and getting dressed again afterwards easier, but the baker didn't even glance now that she had freed her malnourished body from the now abundant layers of clothing.

Holding on to the smooth edges just in case, she carefully stepped into the tub, making sure not to lose her balance on the possibly slippery bottom. Her concerns weren't founded and after taking a few careful steps, she was ensured of the reliability of the wood beneath her feet.

Choosing a part of the tub that looked out on the window and the blue sky that could be seen behind it, Mrs. Lovett lowered herself in the hot water. It elicited a gasp from her when she did so, the feeling of being surrounded by such an amount of warm water being unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Just sitting there was a delight.

She was aware that she had never taken a bath such as glorious as this one. When she had lived with Teddy in Newcastle, even the pathetic excuse of a tub that she had owned when living in Fleet Street had become a luxury compared to the ways she had had to try to clean herself by then. In the end, just relatively fresh water had been rare.

Mrs. Lovett had planned to clean herself as quickly and as thoroughly as she could now that she was given the chance, but when she was actually sitting there, the warm water soothing her body until she felt too content to do anything, she decided to savor the unknown joy for a while first.

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the tub, its edge actually supporting her when she did so, as if it was specifically designed and made to enable this. The water warmed her body, the sun took care of whatever part of her that wasn't below the hot surface. Time passed, but not in the bathroom. As far as she was concerned, life couldn't get much better than this. Even Mr. Todd herself was forgotten temporarily when she surrendered to the heavenly warmth around her.

There was a sudden knock on the door. Her eyes flew open and panic rose within her, fearing that she had stayed here for longer than the barber had intended her to – and she hadn't even started washing herself.

"Yes?" she asked, hoping fervently that Sweeney wasn't angry with her and that he hadn't disappointed him in one way or another.

"Can I join you?"

No matter how much she had hoped that he would say something like this earlier, and no matter how likely it seemed that he would actually say something like this after all what had happened between them in the short but intense amount of time that had passed since their reunion, she was caught off guard by his request. For a few seconds, she was afraid that her heart had actually stopped beating. Her thoughts, having been reduced to an almost inexistent level only a moment ago, rushed through her mind, moving through her head with such speed that they left her dizzy.

The question he had asked could lead to several situations, but whatever he was going to do, whatever his attentions were, he wanted to come into the room. While she was there. Naked. The word 'join' suggesting that he actually wanted to be in the tub _with her_.

"Nellie?"

The concern was clear in his voice, but the baker was overwhelmed to the extent that speaking was difficult.

"Are you all right?"

"Y-yes," she managed at length.

"Do you want me to come in?"

His voice was softer now, more hesitant, as if he didn't believe that she actually wanted him to do so.

"I do," she replied, sounding as firm as she could – she _was _certain.

There was a moment during which happened nothing at all – Mrs. Lovett realized vaguely that she still wasn't breathing – and then the door was opened slowly.

Mrs. Lovett could only sit there, her head and shoulders reaching above the surface of the hot water, staring at the barber as if he was a ghost. Indeed, the way he appeared in the steam was a perhaps a bit supernatural, but there was nothing unreal about him when he approached her.

There was nothing left of the expressionless that she had seen earlier. Every inch of his face betrayed how much he wanted to be there, how glad he was that she was sitting in his tub – how much he wanted _her_.

The look on her face must've mirrored his own, for he didn't say or ask anything when he took off his vest, carelessly throwing the expensive material on the floor, where it ended up on top of her nightgown.

Mrs. Lovett was staring at him, not believing that this was actually happening, even though he was so close to her that she could've touched him if she would've moved to the other side of the tub and extended her hand.

Anything that required even the slightest physical or mental exertion however was impossible when she watched the man in front of her. Although he was still fully clothed except for the vest that was gone now, she had never seen him like this before. Benjamin Barker had always been dressed impeccably as soon as he left the room where he and his wife had lived. Sweeney Todd had been a lot less caring about such things, doubtlessly a result of having lived among many men in a rough environment for such a long time, but he had never undressed only partly in front of her, not even when he needed to change his blood soaked shirt. He always waited until she was gone, as if he was somehow aware after all how much she longed to see just a few inches of the skin that was always hidden away from her eyes. The barber had even always made sure not to stand too close to the large window of his room, as if he had _known _that she often stood in the street, looking up with the hope of casting only the vaguest of glances on him.

All of this was banished to the past forever now. As if he had done countless of times already - which he had of course, but not when she could see it - his hands reached for the buttons of his shirt. Nimble fingers undid them one by one. It appeared to her that his hands were shaking lightly, but this might as well be only an illusion, caused by the way she was shivering a little herself now, even as the greater part of her body was still surrounded by hot water.

Inch after inch of his chest was exposed, one bit of pale skin at a time. His movements were slow, considered, driving the baker wild with impatience. If he would've been just a bit closer to her, she would've ripped the fabric right off his body, but now she couldn't do anything but stare.

At last, the white fabric was shrugged on the floor as well, revealing his torso to her for the very first time. Not even aware of it, her mouth fell open as she took in his exposed upper body with large, eager eyes. His skin was just as pale as she had expected after having studied his face earlier; it was very light without being too pale or gray. There were scars, but not as many as she had expected. The ones that were there didn't diminish his perfection in any way. If anything, it added to his beauty, showing the path he had been forced to take, the proof of his survival and the transformation he had gone through.

What she paid most attention to however was the shape of his upper body. It had always been covered by multiple layers of rather loose material, making it quite difficult even for her to guess what was underneath it. And guessed she had, but just like so many other things about him, her fantasies were nothing compared to the real thing. He was leaner than she had thought, even at his current age, but the well defined muscles that were slightly visible just below his skin, showed that he was anything but weak or small.

He was staring at her as well, eyes taking her in as if he wanted to devour her by just looking at her. She was too occupied with looking at him to realize that nothing but her head and shoulders were protruding from the water in the tub, but that the liquid was as clear as it could be now that there wasn't any soap added to it yet.

As the barber reached for the buttons of his trousers, Mrs. Lovett was afraid for a moment that she was going to faint. Her head was light because of the high temperature in the room, that was still increasing drastically now that Mr. Todd was there, undressing himself right in front of her eyes. Breathing was difficult with all the steam flowing around, unable to go anywhere as long as the door and the window that she just had seen were closed. And she needed the air more than she had ever done before in her life.

Mouth still open, she watched him with eyes that were both unbelieving and desperate for him to continue. She had thought that the barber couldn't possibly tempt her any more than when he had done already, especially when they had been in the alley, pressed against the wall of their former home, and he caressed the most intimate part of her through the fabric of her bloomers. It was the same area that began to throb now at the mere sight of him, standing in front of her like that.

Never taking his eyes off her, he undid the buttons of his trousers. Once he was done, his movements having been considerably faster than when he had done the same with the buttons of his shirt, the black material simply fell on the floor as well. He stepped out of it, closing some of the distance that was still between the baker and himself.

Standing almost right in front of her and wearing nothing but his underwear, it became very clear to Mrs. Lovett that she wasn't the only one who was aroused. And still, she could only stare, a part of her not believing that he was really going to undress fully, even when she knew that he_ was_, that he was going all the way now that hehad started this.

His hands went to the last layer of fabric that was still covering him. They paused for a moment, only to push it down with determination when whatever it was that had caused him to hesitate had passed.

The baker felt as if she was choking on her own breath when Mr. Todd was standing fully naked in front of her. She hadn't meant to do it, telling herself with a voice that was hardly audible now that her mind was reduced to nothing that it would be rude to ogle him as soon as she had the chance.

But as he was simply standing there like that without the slightest hint of awkwardness or shyness, she couldn't help but look, her eyes growing even larger when she took in the proof of his arousal for that very first time. He was beautiful.

He took another step closer to her, his knees almost touching the opposite edge of the tub now. She could still only stare, eyes darting to other parts of his body that she had never seen before, but always drawn back soon to the part of him that she wanted to touch the most, that she wanted to feel deep inside of her because only that could bring them as together as was possible and give her the completion she had been craving for the greater part of her life.

Sweeney remained standing still however and eventually she became aware of this as well. No matter how incredible it was to look at him like this - she could indeed look at him for hours without ever growing tired of it - she wanted him to come into the tub as well, so she could touch him, become one with him.

Only when her gaze shifted back to his eyes, she realized that he was looking at her in the same way she had admired him. Only now it dawned on her that the water she was sitting in was as see-through as the air that was still separating them. Her breath quickened further when she read in his eyes that he enjoyed what he was seeing as much as she did.

He too managed to tear his eyes away from the most private parts of her body at last, blinking as if he couldn't truly believe that he was actually seeing this. His expression was still as dazzled as it had been before, but the determination that she had been aware of earlier had appeared again as well.

At last, he too climbed into the tub, lowering himself into the water just like she had done a short while ago. Although she still could see his entire body because of the transparentness of the water and the same went for him, the baker and the barber were looking each other straight in the eyes now.

She was too overpowered to understand what she read in his gaze. It was a combination of many things – of good things, that she was certain of. But she didn't have the concentration to find out what he was thinking and feeling. It didn't matter however – there was only one thing that did.

Unable to contain herself any longer, to waste even more second now that so many years – _decades –_ of unrequited longing had passed, she moved forward. She basically launched herself at him, sending waves of steaming water sending over the edge of the tub as she did so.

Mrs. Lovett straddled him, almost screaming at the feeling of his length brushing against the core of her desire for the very first time. The barber reacted similarly, desperate arms wrapping themselves around her body, pulling her closer to him when he crashed his mouth against hers.

The kiss was just as hungry and rough as the very first one they had shared. There was nothing tender or gentle about it as both of them were completely overtaken by their desire for each other, needing to achieve the completion that both of them had been so desperate for at last now that they had found a good moment for it after all.

The kiss was hardly a pleasant one at all. The ones they had shared in his house the day before and even that very morning had been much more enjoyable, hadn't been painful and messy like this one was. But this wasn't about kissing after all, so it didn't matter that they bit each other's lips to the point of bleeding, scratched each other's backs in an attempt to get a proper hold of their bodies, slick with water, sweat and steam. She wasn't even thinking about the scar on his leg, but even if she would've hurt the barber, he would've been too preoccupied to notice.

Mr. Todd managed to move a hand between their two bodies, now pressed against one another. Her cupped one of her breasts, kneading it fiercely. She groaned in a way of which she had never known that she could, hot jolts of desire spreading through her entire body until it felt like she was on fire, the flames of the barber's touch consuming her. Hardly aware that she was doing so, she rubbed her entire body against Sweeney's in an attempt to get even closer to him.

Only when he almost screamed her name, she realized that she hadn't only rubbed her breasts against his chest, but that her thighs and the part between them had slid against him as well.

His voice alone was something that she could consider and think about for a very long time. There were so many emotions audible in it that it would've made her dizzy even if she had been in the bath all by herself and had no idea that events such as the current ones were even remotely possible. But the only part of it that she recognized was the blind need that he felt, a need that she shared completely and took over everything else that made her to who she was.

Without thinking, she reached for his length and guided the tip inside of her, taking him in fully by slamming her body down on his as soon as she had the chance.

Both of them cried out as she did so, their loud voices mixing in the sunlit bathroom. As she looked down, almost not believing herself that the barber and she were finally connected in this ultimate way, she saw the look in his eyes from out of the corner of her own. It seemed to her as if he was truly wild with desire and pleasure, his hands now bruising her hips as he hold on to her. It made her forget about the discomfort she felt herself when being invaded like this without proper preparation, for many years her most similar activity having been thinking of what they were doing now.

Her body torn between pleasure and discomfort, she moved up slightly, only to receive his full length again, and again. The barber's hands seemed to be trying to slow her down, to make an end to her frantic rhythm. But even though the intimate movements weren't yet as pleasurable for her as she wanted them to be, she couldn't stop. For so long she had longed for this and now that this was happening after all, under circumstances that were so different from the ones she had always made up, her body could only act as if she was still in a situation like the ones she had imagined. A situation where the barber didn't even really want to do this and where she had to pleasure him as much and as quickly as she could, before he would change his mind and leave her anyway. And even if her mind still would have been functioning at that point, it would've told her to hurry anyway, before the moment of moments would be ruined once again by oblivious bystanders.

Even if Nellie would've been actually aware that neither of them could go on like this for long, she wouldn't have been able to care. This was so much better than she had ever thought it to be to begin with, even though she didn't share his delight, sacrificing hers for his. Just looking at his face however was completely worth it. His eyes were shut tightly but hers were wide open, staring at him even as she moved her body up and down to create the friction that was overpowering him like nothing else had ever done.

The expression on his face was one of ultimate bliss. Even the baker couldn't think of another way to describe it. His head was tilted back, resting against the edge of the tub, having surrendered both body and soul to her. It was not as if his body was capable of anything else, but she felt that he would expose himself to her like this even if it would've been. And for once, his expression was completely open, features betraying just how much he loved this.

It was over very soon. It was not she had any awareness of the passing of time anyway, and he certainly hadn't. But just when she eased herself down on him once again, slightly wincing now, he groaned louder than he had done before, his back arching as his hips suddenly moved upwards, trusting against hers more powerfully than before. The baker almost lost her balance because of this, reaching for him for support, and they collided somewhere in between.

Mr. Todd wrapped his arms around her, howling her name as he found release. They clung to each other as he shook almost violently, claiming her in that way he had never done before.

Completely spent, he slumped back against the edge of the tub, pulling her with him. She followed him gladly, needing to hold on to him herself, if only to believe that this had actually happened. The slight ache between her legs was real enough, but that still wasn't something she had the chance to think about now that Sweeney was in her arms, his body trembling with aftershocks of the pleasure that she had been responsible for.

His head was resting on her shoulder. It wasn't something that hadn't happened before – or at least, very recently – but this time was completely different. It now seemed to her that he actually _had _to let her support parts of his body, because he was for the moment too weak to do so himself, as if she had left him boneless. It was obvious to her as well however that he didn't only leaned on her because he had to, but most of all because he wanted to.

Even as several minutes passed, his eyes remained close, his breath slowing down only very gradually. The baker simply held him, caressing his exhausted body as her mind tried to catch up with what just had happened.

"You... you didn't have to do that."

Those were his first words since he had asked her if she wanted him to join her. She looked at him, shocked to see some disappointment in his eyes.

"Nellie," he said, caressing her hips gently as he became aware of the distress that his words had caused. "I have imagined this very often. But it was never like this."

"I _did _imagine it like this," she said softly, the happiness she had felt earlier because the barber and she had finally sealed their relationship disappearing quickly when he didn't seem to be glad because of what had happened – or at least, not the way in which it had happened.

"Nellie..."

Instead of continuing to talk to her to try to make clear what he was trying to say, he kissed her. The movement of his lips and soon his tongue where soft and gentle once more, containing the tenderness that their frantic coupling had lacked. It made the baker feel more at ease, telling her that he didn't regret that he had slept with her.

"The way I imagined it was very good – for both of us."

The baker felt relieved now that she finally understood what he was trying to say. At the same time she couldn't help but think that Mr. Todd seemed to be exaggerating his own capabilities. She remembered indeed that what he had suggested the previous evening had been quite the opposite of what just had happened.

"I don't think we would've been able to do that," she said carefully, knowing now that he wished that what just had happened would've been slower and longer, not wanting to suggest that _he _would be the one incapable of that.

He considered her words for a moment, then nodded slowly, sighing as he did so.

"You're right. Something like this was bound to happen, I'm afraid. But I had just hoped that..."

He looked at her, pushing a few of soaked curls behind her ear.

"I hoped that we could've found a way to make this equally enjoyable for both of thus."

"I don't think that would've worked," she replied quietly, "certainly not for us."

Even now, she was surprised that this had happened – and at the same time she felt that a spontaneous moment would've been the only kind that would be able to persuade both of them to fully give in to their desire for each other at last. The mere idea of the two of them actually considering this togetherthis was an impossible one indeed, if only because they probably would've ended up in a situation very much like the current one before they had even fully began to think about it.

"You're right," he said. "Again."

He looked sad however, as if he personally blamed himself for what had happened, that he hadn't been able to give her the pleasure that he felt she deserved.

"But I can't help but thinking, if you would've gone slower – much slower – I would've been able to..."

"Don't say that," she whispered, remembering the look in his eyes when he had settled himself in the bathtub. "Neither of us would've... you know that control isn't _my _strongest point."

She was quiet for a moment, considering her next words carefully.

"We can try to... there _will _be a next time, won't there?"

"Most certainly," he said, not having to think about his answer at all. "If you want to."

"You silly man," she sighed, the mere idea of her not wanting to repeat this wondering if the barber was perhaps just as thick as he used to be after all.

She moved closer to him, intending to embrace him and give him the rest that she presumed he needed now.

"_Of course _I want to," she added, seeing the confused expression on his face, as if he truly didn't know whether she wanted to have him again in the future.

There was a hint of actual happiness on his face as she said this, for the first time since he had entered the bathroom.

"We will be all right," she whispered, knowing that it was true as long as the barber continued to be who he was now – and she had no reason to believe that he wouldn't.

"We will," he said, brushing his lips against her forehead.

She sighed happily, her last worries regarding the barber's apparent disappointment fading to the background of her mind as he did so.

Mr. Todd's breath had finally slowed down to its normal speed and there seemed to return some strength in his weakened limbs. He pulled her closer to him, moving two possessive arms around her and guiding her head to his shoulder. The slight pain she had felt earlier was forgotten when he embraced her like this, just like the disappointment she had felt because he apparently hadn't enjoyed their first time as much as she had hoped.

"We will," she repeated, wanting to make clear to him that she believed him and, most of all, how much she wanted him to be convinced of this.

"But I just don't think that it works for us to do... this slowly," she added, wanting to get that strange idea out of the barber's head. It was too bizarre for words that his regret was not that he had slept with her in the first place, but that she hadn't enjoyed it as much as he had because he hadn't lasted long enough to achieve that.

"You may be right again. But either way, we aren't finished here yet."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"What do you mean?" Mrs. Lovett asked, not understanding what the barber was talking about now that he told her that they weren't 'finished' yet.

"You'll see," he simply said.

The baker was rather frustrated by the answer, by his tendency not to answer her questions immediately. But she had learned by now that he would provide her with a very satisfactory answer sooner or later, and she trusted that this situation wouldn't be an exception.

She was still straddling him, but Sweeney gestured her to move away. She did so with some regret, missing the direct physical contact between the barber and herself. When he was free to do so, the barber moved to the other side of the tub, to the part where she had been before she had thrown herself at him. The movements caused the water in the tub to move again, but it didn't get over the edge like the last time. This wasn't strange however; after their earlier activities, almost half of the content of the tub had ended up on the bathroom floor.

From where he was sitting now, the barber could reach for the mirror that she had noticed earlier. He pulled it closer to the tub, turning it around so their reflection appeared in the dark glass. Because of the steam however the image in the mirror was a very fuzzy one. Mr. Todd took his partly soaked shirt from the floor and used the part that was still dry to wipe the mirror, removing the steam so the reflections became clear again.

The baker had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but was more focused on the barber himself anyway. His back was facing her and although this wasn't anything new, the lack of clothes that covered it now certainly was. She studied this part of him as well with great attention now that she had the chance, horrified to see that there were a lot more scars on his back than on the other side of him. She wasn't detested by this, always having known that the barber had suffered a lot more in the colony than the few things she had been able to guess from the implications he had made about his stay there throughout the months.

Just like the scars that she had seen earlier didn't diminish her admiration for Sweeney's body, she wasn't bothered by the ones that she was seeing now either. She most certainly hated whoever had done this to the barber, the ones who had inflicted so much pain and permanent damage on him, but it didn't stop her from enjoying looking at him. Even as she did, she wondered what had happened to him, what had damaged his body so much. It almost looked as if he had been whipped, which was not such a strange guess, considering where he had been for fifteen years.

She decided to ask him when a more opportune moment to do so arose. For now however she couldn't let such a sight pass by without doing anything. Wanting to comfort him, even though it was for something that had happened a long time ago and had caused something that she couldn't change no matter how hard she tried, she moved to the other side of the tub as well.

Just when he dropped the shirt again, she enfolded his body with her own, wrapping her arm around his chest and resting her head against his back. The hand that wasn't around him moved to the parts of his back that her own body wasn't covering yet, caressing both the healthy skin and the angry scars that were within reach.

He sighed as she did this, sitting very still for a while. But then he removed himself from her, the way he did this gentle but firm.

"You don't always have to take care of me. No matter how much I appreciate what you do for me... but there are things even you can't heal. But more importantly, you've looked after me for such a long time already. From now on, it's going to be both ways."

She didn't reply immediately, considering those words first. Before it fully dawned on her what he was saying, he moved back to the end of the tub where he had been before, gesturing her to follow her.

"I'm going to take care of you," he whispered, guiding her to sit between his slightly spread legs and lean back against his chest. "But first, I want you to know two things."

The baker was silent, anticipating whatever it was that he was going to say.

"I want it to be absolutely clear to you that I was upset earlier with myself, not with you. You were perfect and you've got no idea how much I enjoyed with we did. I had just hoped that it would've been as good for you as it had been for me."

Mrs. Lovett nodded, making clear to him that she understood what he was saying and that she was glad to hear that he took her feelings so much into account. She would've loved to actually tell him this, but she didn't dare attempt to speak now that he had just made so very clear to her he had enjoyed himself very much and, even better, that he truly considered her to be his equal now.

"Secondly, I want you to know that the house on the left side of this one isn't occupied at the moment and that the old lady living alone in the house at the right has serious hearing problems."

Once again she didn't have a clue why he was telling her this, but she sensed that she would find out soon enough.

For the time being however nothing was happening. The barber was still sitting behind her, hands resting lightly on her upper legs. Mrs. Lovett however was more than happy just to sit there with him, their uncovered skin touching in the remaining warm water as the memories of what just had happened where fresh in her mind.

After a while he lifted his hands, lying them on her shoulder. He began to caress her, fingers brushing against her slick skin in a slow and leisurely way. She fully relaxed as he touched her like this, as if they weren't in a bathtub together and he hadn't just taken her for the first time. He made her feel as if they were once again in his bedroom and they were covered by both the darkness and their remaining clothing.

This time however there were no obstacles at all and she didn't have to worry about children who might see or hear things that they shouldn't. When the barber's hands followed the shape of her body, stroking her arms as well, she made soft noises of contentment.

Soon she found out that he was only getting started. His hands came to rest on her stomach for a moment, before they slowly but surely began to move upwards. She found herself leaning more heavily against the barber, as if she could persuade him that way not too linger exploring her belly like that, both because she didn't want him to notice how her ribs were visible in her too thin body and there were parts of her that began to become a lot more interested in the presence of his hands.

Mr. Todd continued just as slowly however, not showing a sign of hurry or repulsion that her ill-fed body might have evoked. He paid similar attention to each inch of skin that he touched, appreciating every part of her.

His hands came to a halt when they were just below the swell of her breasts, as if he didn't actually want to continue to that part of her body, which was becoming very eager for his touch now indeed.

But then he moved his hands further upwards after all, cupping a breast with each hand. The baker groaned quietly with delight as she did so. She had felt very content at first, the barber's touch more soothing than arousing, but as he began to knead her breasts experimentally, this changed abruptly.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror, although it was difficult to believe that she actually was the woman who was sitting in front of Sweeney Todd, hands exploring her in a way of which she hadn't thought he ever would. It was almost impossible to believe that the body that he was touching her so intimately was actually hers, but it was indeed her being that was aware of every single jolt of heat that his fingers caused.

Her gaze met Sweeney's just when he squeezed more powerfully than before and she groaned out loud, the last doubts banished from her mind. Obviously sensing how large the impact was that he had on her, his eyes never moving away from her reflection in the mirror, he continued to ravish her in this whole new way.

She was wriggling in his arms, trying to push herself more firmly against his hands. Aware of how much she enjoyed his touches, he continued to knead and caress, varying the pressure and rhythm of his hands to find out what she liked most. The baker herself was too overtaken by it to be even consciously aware of the touches she liked most, but Mr. Todd found out anyway.

The volume of the groans that his touches caused probably told him once again all that he needed to know. She didn't even have to try to think of the right words to express herself to let Sweeney know which touches she appreciated the most; all he had to do was listen to her.

Doing so had never exactly been a strong point of him, but it almost seemed as if he was making up for that now by being even more aware of her body than she was herself, to repeat the movements of his hands that caused the fiercest reactions until she was nothing but a quivering and squirming mass.

Mrs. Lovett was lost, losing awareness of the world that she was part of as Sweeney seemed to mold her very soul into something that was infinitely better than anything she had ever known. Even when they had experienced their moment of heat in the alley, only less than a day ago, she hadn't thought that he could make her feel like _this_. Not even in her wildest and darkest dreams she had been able to imagine that he could make her lose control so completely, that he could reduce her to this simply by touching her breasts the way he was currently doing.

Even when he had caressed her back and kissed her with that intensity that had even surprised her, and she had tried to imagine what it would feel like if he would focus the incredible attention and tenderness he appeared to be capable of now on the most intimate parts of her body, she wouldn't have been able to think of this.

She was hardly aware of the sounds that he elicited from her, didn't really realize that the almost inhuman grunts and moans she heard were her own. There had been days that she had had to be as careful as she could around the barber, knowing that she had to make sure that she wouldn't say anything that she for whatever reason shouldn't. Having lost almost all control over herself now, there wasn't a single barrier between her feelings and the way she expressed them. She knew now however that there was nothing to be afraid of, that she didn't have to fear the barber's reaction to the pleasure that he caused her. If anything, he would only be pleased to see just how much she enjoyed his touch.

His hands were firm and tender at the same time, but there was no way that she could consider that apparent paradox at that certain moment. She was too caught up in this new and unexpected pleasure to realize that this wasn't where this was ending, that this was in fact only the beginning. The source of all this was a part of her that he hadn't even touched yet. And even as it was throbbing in a way it had never done before, causing her to shift her legs subconsciously to do something about the ache that was rapidly building there, she could only think of the way he kept kneading her breasts, which seemed to get more sensitive with every time he touched them.

Her eyes had closed quite a while ago, even though she didn't really remember so. They burst open however when the heavenly sensations that he had caused came to an end, indicating that he had withdrawn his hands. The first thing she saw when she did so was the mirror, and the reflection of herself. Her heavily heaving chest wasn't covered by his hands any longer, causing her to gasp with disappointment and a feeling of great loss.

Her body was too delirious to actually feel it, but when she looked in the mirror, she realized after a long moment that his hands were moving away from her breasts, going downwards without apparent hurry or purpose.

When his hands moved out of her view, or at least her current one, which was provided by the mirror, it took her another moment to realize that this didn't mean that she couldn't see the progress of his hands any longer. Her thoughts slowed significantly by the pleasure that clouded it, it took her some seconds to look downwards, focusing her gaze directly on his hands instead of their image in the mirror.

But even when she was seeing with her own two eyes that the barber's hands were resting on her thighs, it was hard to believe that this was actually real. There was no time to think about it however, not even if thinking had still been possible now that his fingers moved upwards, to the part of her that was throbbing for those hands that could drive her almost wild with desire.

There was no space to realize how ironic it was that those were the hands that had killed so many men, that had touched another woman for so long, the very hands that had almost ended her life ten years ago. But even if there was, it would've been forgotten when the barber's hands slid upwards, caressing the pale skin that was so flawless compared to his own.

The baker's hands moved to the edge of the tub, needing something to hold on to now that the temperature kept increasing and the world was spinning out of control around her. The rest of her body was pressed firmly against the barber's, as she pushed herself against him even though he was holding on to her as tightly as he could himself as well.

Her entire being was screaming for him to touch him there where she needed him most, to stop lingering on the soft skin of her thighs, caressing it with gentleness she didn't want at that moment. No matter how pleasant the touch would be in any other situation, no matter how much she had dreamed of caresses like those to begin with, there was only one thing that she wanted at that moment. Her mouth however could produce no sound, her body completely consumed by the blind need that was coursing through her, more powerful than anything else that she had ever experienced.

Sweeney was probably very much aware of how much she wanted him to touch her, but his fingers just continued their slow pace, stroking each inch of skin as if every part was the same to him.

Her legs spread on their own accord, giving him better access to that part of her that was most desperate to be touched now, hoping to persuade him this way to actually do so. He tensed behind her when she did so, his hands holding still for a moment as if he was actually surprised by what she had done, by the way she was so clearly showing him what she needed.

If it hadn't been for the situation, Mrs. Lovett would've realized that she was probably the complete opposite of Lucy, the woman who he had devoted the greater part of his life to. Even now, she actually was tempted just to grasp the barber's unmoving hand and move it to where she wanted it to be, not reluctant to make very clear to him just how much she needed him. He probably wasn't used at all to be with a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to make him very much aware of this.

The baker couldn't hold back however, not even if she would've known whether Sweeney was actually shocked by the way she reacted to his touch. The want that was overpowering her was unlike anything she had ever known, stronger than anything she had ever experienced. She might've wondered how it was possible that he could do this to her with just his hands, that hadn't even reached for the spot that was the source of her desire.

If she wouldn't have been too far gone to notice, she would've been aware of the way he tightened his grasp around her as he recovered from the initial shock that her actions had caused, actually enjoying the way she reacted to him, savoring the way she offered herself to him completely, making so clear that she wanted his touch – that she needed _him_.

All that mattered to her in that heated moment however, all that she was aware of, was that his hands continued their movement. As if realizing now how much his slow pace had tormented her, he slid one of his hands upwards at last. Even as she saw this however, wide eyes taking in the fingers that disappeared between her legs, she couldn't fully believe that he was really doing this.

Only when his fingers began moving carefully, exploring her in a way he had never done before, it was somewhat clear to her that this was really happening to her. Thinking however become impossible as soon as the nimble digits began to touch her in a way no one had ever done.

Intuitively, she looked up in the mirror again. Ignoring the look of pleasure and incomprehension on her own face, she focused on the barber's. There was an expression of intense concentration on his face, combined with something that could only be described as delight. It was something she had seen on his face whenever he talked about his vengeance, but it was so different at the same time. The focus had nothing to do with planning or death; it was all about _her_, as he wanted to touch her as skillfully as he could. He was completely absorbed by what he was doing now, with her, and even to her it was obvious in the heat of the moment that he _liked _to do this, that he _enjoyed_ to see her like this. Although there were some strange similarities, this couldn't compare to anything that either of them had experienced before, and the baker was more than happy with that.

At that moment however he touched something inside of her that made her scream out loud, her entire body shaking as he sent a physical blow of pleasure through her being. The baker threw her head back, tears welling in her eyes as delight unlike anything she had ever known consumed her. She had been sure that he couldn't make her feel any better than he had done a few minutes ago, but the sensations that were burning within her now made the fire that he had stoked within her earlier pale in comparison.

She closed her eyes, having no choice but to focus fully on the things he was doing to her. When he repeated the motion, at least a part of her had been expecting it. But even though she knew what was coming, there was no way for her to prepare for the pleasure that he caused, using nothing but his fingers.

The baker cried out again, feeling as if an actual wave of physical delight was washing over her. Her head still tilted backwards, resting on the barber's shoulder, but she couldn't keep her body in an upwards position any longer, her muscles flexing now on the barber's command only.

Becoming aware of this, the hand that had been resting on her thigh, still caressing it lightly, came around her waist, supporting her body now that she couldn't do herself any longer. The baker only noticed for the shortest moment of time; even as he moved to make sure that her body didn't slid out of his reach, the other hand continued its movements.

The baker's own hands still held on to the edges of the tub, doing this with such a despair that her knuckles turned white, even though the blood was streaming quicker through her body than it had ever done before, her heavily beating heart rushing it forward.

The tub that she was holding on to had been like an anchor to her before, but now it seemed as if everything was moving around her, that even the tub wasn't standing still any longer. She kept her eyes shut tightly, sensing that the world around her would become even stranger and more nonexistent if she actually looked at it. And as another wave of pleasure went through her, a far and overtaken part of her was remind that she wouldn't have been able to open her eyes anyway, even if she would've wanted to.

Time passed in the world that she didn't seem to be part of any longer, but the barber didn't cease the intimate caresses, continuing to touch her with the same slow and gentle gestures. It didn't seem possible, but the fire within her kept growing with every second that passed, with every time that his fingers pressed against that spot inside of her.

The waves that had washed over her and continued to do so, seemed to be taking her down, drowning her in a sea of pleasure. As there didn't come to see an end to the increasing intensity of his touches, there was a hint of panic that began to mix with the extreme delight she was feeling. She had no idea where this was going to end - whether there was an end at all – and with each second that past, she felt as if it was harder to breathe, more difficult not to get lost in her own body.

"I'm here," he whispered in her ear, his voice quiet but hoarse. She had no idea how it was possible, but he had sensed her distress almost as soon as she had done so herself. "I'm holding you."

The barber's voice soothed her, as if it helped her through the surface of the growing waves that kept rushing over her. Her painful grip on the edges of the tub lessened slightly, but not for long.

The speed of the movement's of his hands increased slightly, as if he was only then becoming aware of how much his touches influenced her exactly and that she needed more of it. The fire within her grew to an almost unbearable level and although she was screaming and groaning until her throat was sore, she could hear nothing but the frantic pounding of her heart and felt nothing but the ever spreading pleasure that was overtaking her.

And finally, when her body felt as if it couldn't take any more of the exquisite torture, he sent her over the edge at last. The scream that had welled up inside of her was stuck in her throat when one more wave of pleasure washed over her, more powerful than all the previous ones combined, sweeping over her to the very core of her being.

Her eyes rolled back in her head and her entire body shook heavily, just like Sweeney's had done before, as it tried to find a way to deal with the previously unknown sensations. It seemed to her as if she was falling and falling, faster and faster. She had no idea where she would end up, where the stream that her body was lost in would take her. But it didn't matter anymore; she didn't care what would happen, just as long as her being was consumed by the incredible feelings that Sweeney had caused.

When she became slightly aware of her surroundings and regained some of the control of her body, she found herself lying against the barber. She would've slid beneath the water's surface if it hadn't been for his arms, that were holding on to her more tightly than ever before.

He was breathing almost just as heavily as she was, but she wasn't aware of it. All she could do was lie in the water that wasn't hot at all compared to the current temperature of her body, while aftershocks made her tremble and shake as her mind still drifted somewhere far, far away.

After an undefined amount of time had passed, the aftermath of the breathtaking pleasure that the barber just had caused had worn off to the extent that she could sit up properly and turn around to face him.

There were a lot of things that she wanted to say to him, and at least she wanted to thank him for what he just had done for her. But her mind was still clouded, making it difficult to think, and the look in his eyes made it simply impossible for her to talk at that moment. For once, there was an expression of total openness on his face, his features betraying his thoughts and emotions instead of shielding them from her.

And as she looked into those eyes that hid none of his longing for her, there was nothing that stopped her from showing the emotions that assaulted her when she realized how unlikely it was that they were here now, together in a bathtub in the beautiful house where they had finally given in to their desire for each other completely.

She strongly felt that the moment should be one of joy, but she couldn't help but be harshly reminded of the long and terrible years – decades – that had let up to this moment. She hated herself for it, but she couldn't blink the tears away that welled in her eyes when the suppressed memories caught up with her in this moment of vulnerability.

"Nellie," he said quietly, seeing her struggle. "Don't. Just don't."

"I _know," _she replied, trying to hold back the tears that became only more insistent when she did so. "I shouldn't be crying now. I don't_ want _to, but..."

"That's not what I meant."

She didn't understand what he was talking about, until he moved closer to her, guiding her head to rest on his shoulder at the same time.

"You don't have to hide your feelings from me any longer. Ever."

Understanding now that he didn't mind that she reacted to the wonderfulness that he had just caused her to experience by weeping, she didn't try to hold her tears back any longer. Although she felt slightly awkward at first when she let go completely in his arms once more, the feeling of discomfort disappeared soon. More than anything, she was just relieved that he understood her now and wasn't bothered by the way she couldn't keep her emotions under control.

Even now he was caressing her, hands soothing her when realities that she had tried to ignore for a long time came crashing down on her. Even when she cried, for the first time since many years allowing someone else to see her tears, the sadness that she had kept hidden for years and had denied even towards herself violently making its way outside of her at last, she wasn't overwhelmed by her grief.

As long as Sweeney Todd was with her, supporting her when she didn't have any strength or will left, just like she had always been there for him in his darkest moments, she felt like she could handle anything – that no one else mattered any longer, as long as he was there with her.

But even when she wasn't thinking of the awful circumstances that she had lived in for so long, stopped to remind herself what a miracle it was that both of them were still alive and that they had found each other in the first place, she couldn't help but realize how much time they had lost; whether it was wasted or not, whether they had needed that time or not, the prime of their lives lay almost beyond them, the amount of years that they could spend together even if he was willing to being small compared to the ages that they hadn't known that they would actually find each other one day.

But as he continued to hold her, the hands that had led her to such incredible pleasure only minutes ago just gently stroking her back now, she calmed down. The past wasn't important any more. It had happened, had made sure that they were exactly where they were now. From now on, events from the past didn't matter any longer. Neither was the future of much importance. She had spent too much time worrying about the day of tomorrow. She had come at a part in her life where only the present day mattered. For the first time in her life, the present was also something that was _worth _being enjoyed and savored.

There were so many things that she wished to tell him, but when she moved slightly away from him at last and looked up to meet his gaze, she knew that there was no need. The expression on his face was completely unguarded, allowing her to read his thoughts right off his face. From the way he was looking at her in return, she could tell that for him was going the same thing. It was not as if her face hadn't always been as open as it was now; it was not as if she could hide her thoughts and feelings even if she wanted to. But in the past he had never been willing to actually look at her, was never interested in the things she thought or felt.

This was changed completely now of course and no matter how much she liked to talk with him, to hear how his voice expressed his views and opinions, it was something of a relief now to communicate to him without having to find the right words to make herself clear to him.

This way, it was so much easier to thank him for what he just had done, for what he had given her. So much easier to make clear to him that it had felt better than she could've imagined, but that she had panicked for a moment because he was the one and only to show her that such pleasure existed. Only this way she felt that she could tell him how utterly happy she was to be there with him, the gratitude for having found him in relative good health and with such changed feelings regarding her.

And while those thoughts run through her mind and he experienced them simultaneously, she could read in his eyes that he shared those feelings, that he was extremely grateful to have her back after he thought that she had been lost for him forever. Just like she could see by just looking at him that he had enjoyed pleasuring her, to watch her when offered her what he had been unable to offer earlier.

Even though the world was slowly returning to the way she remembered it – or at least, to some extent – time still seemed to stand still when the barber and she were looking straight into each other's eyes, communicating things that would never be said aloud. Because of this she had no idea how much time had passed when he eventually reached for her again and pulled her against him, letting her rest against his chest.

She gladly moved back against him, giving her body and mind the chance to recover from the extreme mental and physical exertion of the moment that had just passed. Even now he was gently touching her back, both soothing her and enjoying himself by doing so.

Her head was resting above his heart and she was surprised to find it pounding almost just as fast as hers still was. She had felt earlier that he had appreciated the chance to let her experience what she had offered him before for herself, but it was nice to feel the physical presence of it thumping right beneath her ear.

When both of them had calmed down, he reached for a small and low table that was standing behind the tub and which she hadn't seen before. There were various blocks of soap and similarly looking objects. He took one of them, a piece that was unused but managed to look as if it had been lying there for quite some time.

The soap looked familiar to her but she only recognized it when Sweeney began rubbing it between his wet hands and she breathed in its scent.

"That's my soap," she muttered, bewildered. "I used to use that."

She probably should know better by now, but it kept mesmerizing her how much of her old life was coming back to her because it had somehow become part of Sweeney's.

"I know. That's why I wanted it. When I went to Fleet Street one day, I walked past the market to get there. It wasn't safe, but always taking the same route to our house wasn't either. When I was walking, there was a smell in the air that made me think for a short while that you were actually there was well. It took me a while to realize that I had happened to find the stand where you used to buy your soap. Buying a piece was an unnecessary risk but it was something that I just _had _to."

Even though she had been far away from him at that time, the baker could easily imagine him standing in front of one of her favorite stands of St. Dunstan's Market, buying the soap that she had always been fond of.

"I use it to wash your nightgown, just so it keeps smelling a little bit like you," he added. "I had just never thought that I would use it to wash you."

The soap was mixing with the still warm water and the baker looked with delight at the bubbles that were appearing, just like she had always imagined that they would in such a large tub.

The last words that the a barber just said to her where however a lot more interesting than the bubbles. It amazed her that he managed to make their time together better just when she thought that he possibly couldn't do so even more once again.

"Let me begin with washing your hair," he said, guiding her body more forward so she could lean her head back to the extent that the already damp tresses became completely soaked.

Once her hair was wet enough, he helped her sit up again and he moved to sit right behind her. His hands were fully covered with liquid soap now and he worked them into her hair, not stopping until every inch of the long curls was surrounded by small bubbles.

The baker heaved a deep sigh of contentment as she surrounded by warmth and the smell of her favorite soap that was applied by the man who she loved.

She could sit forever like that, body more relaxed than it had ever been before and eyes closed when Sweeney was washing her hair as if it was only normal that he did such things. The moment would end sooner or later but this time, she didn't mind at all – whatever it was that was going to follow, it would be as good as this.

She tilted the back of her head back into the water when he asked her to do so. His hands ran through her curls until they were completely clean, then guided her in a sitting position once again.

He didn't stop there. As soon as she was sitting against him again, he took a washcloth from the small table next to the bath and began to wash her, moving the soapy fabric against her skin with firm but pleasant strokes.

Mr. Todd didn't forget a single part of her body, washing every bit of her with similar care, although his movements were even slower when he washed the skin that he had bruised and bitten the day before in his hasty and rather desperate attempt to claim her. The care with which he carefully cleaned the wounded skin now was the complete opposite of his earlier anger and lust.

He washed every inch of her, only hesitating slightly when he reached for the parts of her that she usually longed to be touched by him in quite different circumstances. But she was sated now – for the time being at least – and in that moment there was nothing that she wanted more than the tenderness he was showing now. So she just shivered pleasantly when he washed her breasts and thighs, the movements not leaving her wanting more.

When this was done, he reached for the items standing on the small table again. A moment later he was holding a small brush in his hand. She didn't know what this was for until he took one of her hands in his own and began to remove the dirt from beneath her finger nails.

The baker was embarrassed at first, horrified that Sweeney had both noticed the dark edges of her fingers and was now actually cleaning them, as if she were a child. The barber didn't give a single indication however that he was bothered by this; if anything, he seemed to be glad to have an excuse to continue cleaning her.

Trusting him now more than anyone or anything, she just let him. Most of the soap was gone now, disappearing as it mixed with the dirt that came off her body, but it was a relief now instead of a burden. And as he reached for her other hand, she actually enjoyed the care with which he performed the process, the delight that he seemed to find in washing her warming her just like the water she was sitting in.

It felt as if it wasn't just the dirt he was washing away from her. It almost seemed to her as if he was trying to clean the past away from her, to free her from the memories of dark and lonely days, that went on and on without apparent end and the slightest hint of friendship, let alone love. It was as if he tried to erase the past that they had spent apart from each other, even when they had lived in the same house. As if he wanted to undo the despair that had dominated her life for so long.

When he had finished washing her and put back the brush that he had used to clean her fingernails, she felt cleaner than she had ever been in her life – and she probably was. Both of them let out a long sigh, the simultaneous sound reminding her once again how similar they appeared to be now.

"The water is getting cold," he said after an undefined amount of time had passed.

The baker hadn't been aware of it until he mentioned it, still too overwhelmed by what just had happened and at the same time too content just to sit there.

She blinked, the moment of delightful nothingness she had just been part of coming to an end now that he had spoken to her. She fully returned to the actual world around her, that included so much more than just Sweeney Todd. She realized he was right; in fact, she was shivering lightly with cold.

"Let's get out of the bath," he said.

Although she could've sit there for a much longer time, savoring the things that had just happened and the continuing presence of the man who had been responsible for them, she agreed with him. It was becoming uncomfortable in the bath and besides, she was absolutely sure now that Sweeney Todd would go with her whatever was going to happen when they would leave the bathroom.

She managed to break away from him, in spite of the knowledge that the separation wouldn't be for long disappointed not to be so close to him any longer. He stood up when there was some distance between them, climbing out of the tub. In spite of herself and the cold water and air that were the only things that were surrounding her now, the baker couldn't help but look at him when he walked towards the small cupboard in a corner of the bathroom, not missing even the smallest of details when he took several large towels from it.

When he turned around and walked back to her, he found her looking at him. The baker looked away quickly, sensing that he wouldn't appreciate it if she would continue to stare at him like that. It was not that she could help him; even if she would've had plenty of chances like this before – which she hadn't, obviously – she would probably never get tired of looking at the beautiful body of the man who she loved now even more than she had always done.

He wasn't upset at all however when he saw that she was scrutinizing him; if anything, he seemed to _like _it that she looked at him like that, as if it was honor that her eyes explored his body like this once more.

The barber stood still in front of the tub and offered her his hand. She took it and he helped her get out of the bath, so she too ended up standing on the soaked tiles of the bathroom. It wasn't much warmer there, the water on the floor having gone cold a long time ago as well, and Mrs. Lovett shivered only more now that she was out of the bath.

The look in Sweeney's eyes betrayed that he had been rather willing to look at her unclothed form for quite some time, but he wrapped one of the large towels around her shoulder, shielding her from the cold air around them.

Grateful for the nicely soft and warm material, Mrs. Lovett enjoyed the way it surrounded almost her entire body, unable to prevent herself from noticing that she had never had such pleasant towels. It was not that she had ever needed them and it was strange indeed to find out that the former demon barber happened to own such large and nicely white towels, but she was glad that he had them and allowed her to enjoy them now.

She watched how Sweeney wrapped a towel around his own body as well, shielding the pale skin from her view. She was disappointed by this for a moment, but she realized almost simultaneously that it probably wouldn't take long before she could continue getting to know his body, that there would come a moment soon in which they would soon be overtaken by desire for each other once more. Just the way he was still looking at her betrayed that it probably wouldn't take long indeed.

When she was sure that the towel was firmly wrapped around her body – it was not that she would mind Sweeney looking at her, but that she didn't want to catch a cold – she stepped closer to the barber. He was trying to dry his hair with one of the smaller towels that he had taken out of the cabinet. No matter how wonderful it was to see him do this – if only because it was so unique that he allowed her to see it in the first place – it wasn't enough for her.

"Let me do it," she said, wanting to keep touching him even now that their lust was slaked for the time being.

He looked at her for a moment, as if judging her words. His gaze betrayed that he didn't mind at all that she offered him her help, something that he had always refused in the past. Now he seemed to be nothing but delighted that she wanted to stay close to him even now.

Mr. Todd gave her the towel, but as she reached for him to continue what he had been doing, she found out that doing so wasn't as easy as she had thought. In the past she hadn't been close to him often enough to really notice it, and in the recent moments that they had shared they had usually been too caught up in the moment to realize that he was quite a bit taller than she was. No matter how much she wanted to do so, she couldn't dry his hair for him, simply because she wasn't tall enough.

Realizing their problem, he took her hand in his own and guided her to a corner of the bathroom that wasn't flooded yet. Looking straight at her, he moved down to his knees, resting them on the dry but equally cold tiles that covered the floor. She gasped when she realized what he was doing, that he surrendered himself to her in this unexpected but delightful way.

She stepped closer to him, until their bodies were almost touching once again, and began to dry the dark tresses that were at the perfect height now. While she did so, he rested his face against her towel covered stomach, wrapping his arms around her waist in a way that suggested that he never wanted to let go off her again. He wasn't bothered by the water that dropped out of her own soaking locks and didn't mind at all whenever the long and wet curls brushed against his face. He actually seemed to like it when this happened, as if he appreciated everything that only remotely reminded him that she was truly there, being with him in the way she had always wanted to.

When his hair was dry enough to the baker's satisfaction, when she was convinced that he wouldn't catch a cold himself when they'd leave the still relatively warm bathroom, she dropped the towel. Her work wasn't finished yet – or at least, not as far as she was concerned.

Gesturing him to stand up again, she took hold of the edges of the larger towel that was wrapped around him. As he nodded at her to give the permission she was looking for, she gently pulled at the material, baring the barber's body to her once more. Although her eyes took in as much of him as she could, she mostly focused on her actual task, which was drying his body as well.

The towel had absorbed most of the water that had covered him when he had stepped out of the tub. In fact, he was mostly dry already. But both the barber and the baker were rather fond of the idea that had made its way into Mrs. Lovett's mind.

He extended his right arm to her, almost as if to make clear to her that he didn't object at all to what she wanted to do. Understanding that he was all right with what she wanted to do, she took his arm in her hand and moved the fluffy material of the towel over the skin that he had offered her, drying his arm for as far as it wasn't so already.

When the right arm was entirely dry, they continued with the left one. This arm too was quickly freed from the last drops of water and before she knew it, she was moving the towel over his back and chest, and even the lower half of his body. She had to kneel down in order to reach for his legs properly, but she was more than happy to lower herself in front of him like that. The only thing about it that she found difficult, was preventing herself from staring too much at that part of him that she had longed to see above anything else.

The first time that it had been inside of her hadn't ended the way she had secretly dreamed of, but the barber had just proven that their intimate moments didn't necessarily had to be as frenzied and rushed as she had initially thought. Even as she was drying his body with great care, only minutes after getting out of the tub where he had taken her for the very first time, she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if that part of him would move as slowly and carefully inside of her as his fingers just had done.

She was tempted just to reach out for him and touch him, to see him grow larger in her hand. She decided against it however, even though the temptation was difficult to resist. But the baker didn't want to push her luck, didn't want to go too far now that she was almost certain that things between the barber and herself would progress wonderfully if only she gave it enough time.

So she gestured him to turn around, drying the back of his legs and forcing herself to focus on the color and structure of his skin, and the feeling of the muscles that lay beneath it, now that she had the chance. This was fascinating in its own right, just like she had thought and hoped, and distracted her enough to prevent herself from doing something embarrassing.

Even when he was fully dried and she stood up again, he didn't take the towel that she offered him. Instead, he reached for the towel that was covering her, gently tugging the fabric away from her when she too had nodded her permission, just like he had made clear to her earlier that he didn't mind her doing so.

The roles were reversed now and although the idea that he was helping her like his was even more unlikely than the fact that he had just allowed her to look after him like she had always wanted to, she enjoyed it very much anyway.

After he had wrapped a smaller towel in her hair for the time being, Sweeney dried her skin with at least just as much care as she had dried his earlier. When her arms were done, he too sank down on his knees in front of her, drying the front of her body. He too was unable to keep his gaze away from certain parts of her, but the baker hardly had the chance to appreciate it. Even when he was moving the towel over the surface of her back, he pressed his face against her stomach, lightly kissing the skin he had just dried already.

Taken aback by this new display of tenderness, the baker didn't realize that he was done drying her body until he cleared his throat. But even then she didn't feel like moving and preferred to just remain standing where she was, not bothered by the cold as much anymore now that her skin wasn't wet any longer.

Mr. Todd seemed to share this feeling. He too remained standing still in front of her, eyes taking in her now dry but still unclothed form as he had wanted to do before. Mrs. Lovett herself took her change to continue watching him, admiring him with wide and eager eyes.

His hand reached for hers and their hands locked somewhere in between them even as they were still watching each other. Although the barber's dark eyes were roaming over her, the baker didn't feel uncomfortable. It was not that she was really aware of his gaze now that she was looking at him with similar intensity, but she was also absolutely sure by now that he was rather fond of her body and his opinion mattered more than her own when it came to such things.

Just watching wasn't enough however after a while. It was not that she wanted to touch him now like he had caressed her so recently – she did, but not at the current moment. For the time being she just wanted to hold him and being held by him, to remind her once again that this wasn't a dream or illusion. But most of all she knew now how wonderful it was to be so close to him, even when they weren't pursuing the pleasure of which she knew now that they could share.

She pulled lightly at his hand. He looked at her for a moment, a questioning gaze in his eyes, but he seemed to understand her before she had the chance to explain herself. They both took a small step towards each other and when their bodies were almost touching once more, she carefully wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest.

He returned the embrace, his arms too going around her waist, resting his hand just below the small of her back as he eased his head against hers. Their bodies fit together perfectly, even when they were just standing like this. There had been times that she had felt that truly being with the barber like this couldn't be worth the ages that she had spent alone, longing for him with despair. But now that they were holding each other like that, remembering the short time they had spent together so far and thinking a little of the days that were to come, she knew that she would do it all again. No matter how horrible parts of the previous decades had been, it had been worth it.

"Let's go back to bed," he said after a few quiet and peaceful minutes, shivering lightly himself now because of the growing coldness in the bathroom, the last water in the tub having cooled down too much in order to still provide any warmth.

The foresight was a very tempting one and the baker nodded her consent. Not wanting to bother getting into the clothes she had just selected – she had the sneaky suspicion that they would be abundant again rather soon anyway – she decided just to wrap the towel around her body. It would provide enough warmth and protection until they reached the barber's bedroom.

Mr. Todd himself didn't have any dry clothes with him after he had dropped the clothing that he had been wearing on the now wet floor, and he simply wrapped his towel around his waist as well.

Before they left, he pulled the towel that was still covering her curls away. Her hair was clean and relatively dry now, but it was a bigger mess than it had been before. Sweeney only shrugged however, as if he couldn't care less that the curls looked like if something had exploded right next to them. But in a way, there had just been a rather powerful moment indeed, and it seemed to her that the barber wanted to be reminded of that like this as well.

Sweeney opened the door to the hallway that lay beyond it, leaving the messy bathroom behind. The baker wanted to follow him, but only then realized that she could hardly walk because of the large towel that she had put rather tightly around herself, leaving only her feet, head and shoulders bare.

Noticing almost immediately that she didn't follow him, he turned around on the threshold. That amused expression appeared on his face once more as he saw what she had gotten herself into this time. She was too focused on that wonderful look on his face to really notice that he was approaching her.

Only when one of his arms went beneath her knees and the other held on to her shoulders, she realized what he was doing. Before she knew it, he had simply lifted her up, holding her tightly in his arms as he made his way out of the bathroom, making sure not to smash her accidentally against the frame of the door.

She let out a delighted shriek when he carried her upstairs, back to his bedroom, feeling as if her life was beginning only now.

* * *

_I'm sorry that it took me so long to continue this story. Real life has been very demanding during the past few months, but luckily things are really slowing down now. After completing my thesis (and thus earning my Bachelor of Science degree!) a few days ago, I'm now going on a much needed vacation. When I'm back, I'll try to write and post the remaining ten chapters of this story within a few weeks._


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

When he carried her back to his bedroom, Mrs. Lovett had once again a hard time believing that this was truly happening. But she was used to the huge feeling of bewilderment that the current situation caused her now to such an extent, that she found it relatively easy this time not to think too much and just let herself enjoy the moment.

She was pressed against his still unclothed chest and even now she couldn't help but see and feel as much of it as she could, trusting Sweeney not to smash her against any walls when she moved her fingers gently over his skin, drawing random patterns on his back while her eyes followed every movement of her hand.

It took her longer than she had expected to carry her upstairs; it almost seemed as if he was moving slowly on purpose. She hoped that he enjoyed doing this as much as she did and, judging from the look on his face when she looked up to meet his gaze, he did.

When they arrived in the large room at the end of the flight of stairs, he pushed the door open with his right foot and carried her back to his bed. He laid her down on her stomach carefully, making sure that the towel remained around her.

This wasn't really necessary however. In the bedroom it was much warmer than it had been in the bathroom, thanks to the large window in the roof that freely allowed the sunlight to reach the room. Mrs. Lovett had the feeling that Mr. Todd knew this even better than she did, and just used the towel as an excuse to touch her again. Which she, of course, didn't mind at all.

Because of the pleasant light of the sun they didn't need the blankets to keep warm. So the baker just remained lying on top of them, exactly where he had laid her down. He eased himself down on his stomach next to her, resting his head on his folded forearms just like she had done.

They looked at each other from their almost identical position and Mrs. Lovett smiled when she saw the delighted face of the barber so close to her own. She could stare at it for a long time, just appreciating the way his eyes were alive, looking at her with such intensity that she could almost feel it. And that's exactly what both of them did.

At one point, she reached for his hand again, wanting to do this just because she could. Noticing it almost immediately, he moved his hand as well, until he took hers in his own. Having to divide her attention now between the barber's joyful expression and their entwined hands, the baker was busy for quite a while indeed.

After a while however she fully realized that there was more than just his hand and face that she could see. The blankets didn't hide him from her still hungry view this time and the towel only covered the lower half of his body.

She turned around as far as the large towel that was wrapped around her as well allowed her, resting her head on the palm of her hand to take a good look at the man who was lying next to her.

His eyes were drawn to the part of her body that was visible now that she had moved, even though it wasn't much more than the moment before. The baker however wasn't aware of it, her full attention focused on the barber's pale chest.

Feeling completely at ease even though the situation was a very special one indeed, she felt that just watching wasn't enough after just a few seconds of admiring the body that was within her reach.

She managed to get up in spite of the material that was wrapped tightly around her and moved closer to the barber's side. The movements were far from graceful as they were still much restricted by the towel. Sweeney however didn't seem to notice this and all what mattered to her was the look in his eyes when she made her way towards him. There wasn't a single sign of rejection in his gaze; he simply seemed to be glad that she closed the distance between them once more.

Mrs. Lovett managed to maneuver herself almost behind her barber, her knees coming to rest near his upper legs. The pale skin of his back was within her reach, his head bended backwards as much as it could be to look what she was doing, his gaze betraying the eager anticipation he experienced.

Dozens of possibilities rushed through her head; for so many years she fantasized about moments like this, that it was difficult now to choose what she would do now that she actually had the chance after all to touch him like this.

After a short moment of hesitation she decided that she wanted to settle herself against him like she had done when they were in the bathtub, but what hadn't lasted long back than because the barber had had quite other plans. But she still longed to cover his body with her own like she had done then and she felt that this was the perfect opportunity.

The towel was in her way however, preventing her from moving freely and potentially from feeling the barber's bare skin right against her own. Not caring at all that he saw her doing so, she simply tugged at the fluffy material once more, nonchalantly pulling it off her once it came free.

She did see this time that the barber's eyes widened when she bared herself in front of him like this, and she smiled again, enjoying the look in his eyes when they roamed over her.

She could sit like that for a long time indeed, just enjoying the delightful sensations that the barber made her feel just by looking at her like that. But the muscled back in front of her was difficult to ignore. Her gaze focused on that part of him now, taking in the shape of him now that he was lying in her view like that, hungry eyes watching how his narrow waist ended in a pair of broad shoulders.

The barber made a sound of impatience and this reminded the baker that she could do a whole lot more now than just watching, although even this was so much more than anything she was used to be doing when he was around.

She eased her own body down on top of this, gasping with delight just like Sweeney himself when her uncovered upper body settled against his. She buried her face in his relatively long hair and just remained lying like that for a long while, hands gently stroking the barber's side as she savored the way he sighed happily when she did so.

Mr. Todd's body was pleasantly warm and whether she had been at least partially responsible for this – and she liked to think that she was – she wished that she could spend a lot more time like this in the future, just feeling him against herself.

Simply listening to him was a delight as well. It was her turn now to explore his body with her own hands and although she was for the moment too content to take the risk of taking things between them past the point of no return once again, she was very happy to ran her hands down his sides, caressing and stroking until she elicited gasps and quiet moans from the former demon barber.

The sounds reminded her of something that he had said to her earlier. Only now the remark that he had made to her in the bathtub made sense to her. Just before he had begun to take her to a place of which she had had no idea that it even existed, he had said something about the neighbors in the houses that were next to his own – or rather, the lack of them.

"I don't think it worked," she muttered lazily, somewhat recalling the way she had screamed when he had brought her to incredible highs just with his fingers.

"What worked?" he asked, his voice just as content as hers, although she was rather sure that there was a hint of desire in his tone.

"Your neighbors," she said, trying to make clear what she was referring to even though her mind was so deliciously empty and her limbs still felt like they were weightless. "You said that they weren't there or couldn't hear me."

"I did," he replied, his voice making clear to her that he knew now that she was talking about but didn't understand her yet.

"Your direct neighbors may not have heard me because they weren't there or simply couldn't, but I think that _theirs _did."

The barber had the nerve to chuckle – _chuckle_ – when she voiced her concern. She had expected that he would be upset if others heard her screams of pleasure, afraid that he would be ashamed or at least secretive regarding her. From what she had understood, a lot of people that lived near the house were his customers – his very well paying customers. She could imagine that upsetting them was the last thing he wanted to, if only because he could finance a very pleasant way of living because of them.

It wasn't also difficult for her to image that said rich and doubtlessly very conservative people would be shocked to say the least when it turned out that their trusted barber was having such wild and intimate moments with an unknown woman. It would be nothing compared to the knowledge of the barber's actual identity, but she supposed that the woman who ended up in Sweeney's bed – and his bathtub – from out of nowhere would be a huge shock for them indeed.

"I wouldn't be surprised if the entire street heard me," she muttered, more to herself than to him as she recalled with some shame that she had lost utter and complete control of herself.

"I just didn't want you to hold back, for no matter what reason. I could imagine that you had had to be quiet for a long time, living with your family. I wanted to remind you that they were not here and that there was no one else around who could hear you."

She couldn't see his face as he told her this, but the way in which he said the words was reassuring enough for her. She could actually imagine his features as he spoke those calming words, seeing the eyes that could tell her that he was speaking nothing but the truth.

"Nellie," he said, in a way more calming than anything she had ever known, even though he couldn't even look at her as long as she was lying on his back like that – and especially if he talked to her like that, she didn't intend to move away anytime soon. "Even if they would find out, I wouldn't care. I'm not ashamed of you – more than anything, I'm proud that you are here with me, that you allow me to make love to you and that you touch me the way you do."

Those words were better than anything she had ever expected or even hoped to hear from him. She could savor them, replay them in her head – and when she had a proper chance to do so she most certainly would – but she didn't want this moment to become one of a pensive nature. After having just heard such a declaration and with the pleasure that he had just given her still fresh in her mind, there was only one thing she could do.

The barber was right in front of her, covered by nothing but the towel, a piece of fabric that for once wouldn't be too difficult to get out of her way. She wasn't in a hurry however, knew with quite some certainty that Sweeney wasn't going anywhere else soon either. She had a chance now to take matters in her own hand without letting everything get out of control so quickly that she hardly was aware of what was happening. Although such moments were shockingly plentiful since she had met him again, she didn't intend to let even a single one get past without taking full advantage of it.

She pushed herself up on her arms, creating some distance between Sweeney's body and her own. He made a sound of disappointment as she did so, but this was replaced soon by a sigh of delight when she simply shifted her weight a little, so she could reach for him more properly.

Not able to resist the temptation, she ran her right hand slowly through his hair, fascinated by the way her fingers slid through the still mostly dark tresses as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Indeed, she could look at this for hours, familiarizing herself with the slightly changed color and the texture of his hair.

The barber seemed to have different ideas however. He gave his head a light shake, freeing his hair from her curious fingertips. Taking the hint, the baker moved her attention that lay just a bit lower. She wiped the hair that was still covering his neck after the sudden movement away, baring the pale skin there to her.

She moved her face closer to it, until her lips were brushing against his skin. He held his body still then and, realizing how sensitive the area was, she kissed it carefully. Encouraged by the quiet noises of contentment that the barber made once more, she parted her lips slightly, tongue darting out to feel his skin as well. It was soft and flawless, as if this part of him was somehow forgotten when he had struggled to survive on the other side of the world and he had become Sweeney Todd.

Judging from the way he groaned softly, he liked that even more. Grinning wickedly, the baker moved downwards slowly, kissing and licking her way to the area between his shoulders. Very delighted herself to explore his body this way, she continued, eyes closed as her hands never ceased their caresses of his sides.

Before long, her tongue encountered the first parts of rough and irregular skin. She had reached the area of his body that had suffered the most during his banishment. She wasn't bothered by the scars however – they were part of him, belonged to him; all she hated were the men who had done this to him - and she was more than eager to proof that to him again.

He shifted beneath her, as if trying to wriggle the deformed part of him out of her reach. Mrs. Lovett would have none of that. She felt that words wouldn't persuade him, but she knew that she didn't need those in order to make him understand that he was beautiful in her eyes, with or without the scars.

Sweeney was much stronger than she was and easily could prevent her from touching him that way if he truly wanted to. But before he could even consider this possibility, the baker moved her face back to the area that he had just moved slightly away from her.

She kissed him again, the deep lines of the scars rough against her lips. She didn't care at all however. Those scars were part of the man who he had become, the man who she had loved even more than who he once had been.

Her lips followed the lines that countless whippings had left him with, muttering a soothing word every once in a while. Just like she had hoped, the barber relaxed after a while. What she hadn't expected however was that his body became even more at ease than it had been before, suggesting that he had actually been worried that the scars would prevent her from enjoying touching his body.

Wanting to make sure that he knew that this truly was not the case, she kissed the scars with even more care than she had touched his neck. The sound that rolled off his lips as she did so wasn't one she had heard before, but it was easy to understand for her that he appreciated the tender kisses very much indeed.

Only when his body was as relaxed as she felt it could possibly be, she moved downward again, hands and lips brushing against the relatively smooth skin of his lower back. She grew tired of this quite quickly however. No matter she had longed to touch any part of them, she could touch every spot of his body now that she wanted and she was eager to do just that.

She sat up on her knees, the movement being a rather difficult one even now that the towel was gone; even though she knew that she was doing so because she wanted to get closer to the barber, breaking away from him for even a second was something that her body almost refused to do.

Mr. Todd himself however didn't know that she intended to return to him as soon as she had him the way she wanted him to. His eyes flew open and his head turned around as soon as his weight was gone, his gaze meeting hers to look for a reason for her physical absence.

"Turn around," she said once she found the courage to do so. Even now that the barber and she truly were on so much better terms than they had ever been before, it was difficult for her to actually speak to him like that; she was still used to be the one who did exactly as Sweeney told her instead of the other way around.

Mr. Todd however replied immediately, without asking questions. His prompt obedience surprised her, the realization that she had such power over him marveling her. There was no time however to savor it – perhaps there _was_, but she didn't want to take it. There were a lot of things that she'd rather do now.

The towel that was wrapped around his waist had come partially lose when he had turned around, but it was still covering him. The baker looked at it only briefly however, her eyes more drawn towards the part of him that was already exposed.

He too looked at her, taking her in as she was sitting next to him on her knees, her body still complete unclothed. She was aware of his gaze and she could only smile, delighted indeed to have such a hold over him.

As they looked at each other, it dawned on her that there was a way to savor this power after all, even while continuing her exploration of the body that she had longed to touch for almost too long. At the same time she would even be able to tease him like he had tormented her earlier – or at least, she hoped so. She had to admit to herself that she highly doubted that she could make the barber feel like what he had done to her with just his fingers, but she certainly was going to try.

But first she wanted to take further advantage of this, to see how far she could go. Making sure that he had a good view on her when she did so, his eyes alone so much more encouraging than anything he had ever said or done in the decades that they had known each other before, she bended over him. Planting one hand on either side of his body, she lowered her face to his abdomen, kissing his skin just like she had done on the other side of him only a minute ago.

His back had been sensitive, especially the surface that was scarred, which was something that had surprised her. It was nothing compared however to the reaction when she brushed her lips tentatively against the lower part of his torso. His hard muscles clenched almost right beneath her mouth and the barber growled when her tongue joined her lips.

Mrs. Lovett was truly delighted to get such a reaction out of him. It was tempting to follow the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the part of the towel that was still covering him, but the baker had different ideas. No matter how difficult the temptation was to resist, she moved slightly upwards, ignoring the hands that entwined in her hair and lightly pushed her into the opposite direction.

Eyes closed, she discovered the shape and secrets of his body with just her mouth, using her arms to support her own weight. She would love to ease herself down on top of the barber once more, but if she could fully feel the hardening length that was already pressing lightly against her when she moved down to kiss him, she feared that she would be the first one to lose control. Wanting to give Sweeney a taste of his own medicine, she couldn't afford to do just that for the time being.

Her lips brushed over a small hole a few inches above the point where she had begun her exploration of his front side. Knowing that she had found his navel, she focused on this part of him now, licking and caressing until he was growling and the pressure of his hands in her hair increased.

"Stop that," he said weakly, but his voice made clear enough to her that he didn't mean this – or at least, not really.

Taking pity on him after one last lick, sensing that she could only tease him more if she would go on, she did as he told her. But instead of moving downwards like he expected her to, she pushed herself up on her arms again, until her face was right above his chest.

Sensing that she wasn't going to make an end to things soon, he removed his hands from her hair. From the corners of her eyes she saw that he put them down firmly on the blankets, gripping a handful of fabric in each fist to prevent himself from touching anything else with them.

Delighted but still also surprised to see that the barber completely surrendered himself to her like this, she forced herself not to think about this too much for the time being. It was easier than it appeared to be as she lowered herself on top of Sweeney, coming closer to his uncovered chest than she had been before.

She caressed his skin with light and brief kisses, caught up so much in the delight of doing so that she was only partly aware of his sighs that betrayed both his enjoyment and the frustration that her slow pace caused.

The baker herself shivered when she kissed him like this, eyes fluttering close again when she experienced both the sensations that the actual kisses caused and the way he reacted to them.

He was actually growling by the time her tongue swirled around one of his nipples. His muscles strained, not just where she was touching him, and for her too the last pretense of mere playfulness was gone.

Sweeney pushed her on her back before she had the chance to torment him even more. Managing to free himself from the towel while doing so, he captured her body with his own, settling himself between her slightly parted legs.

Both of them groaned out loud when their naked bodies were pressed together like this once more. Intuitively, Mrs. Lovett wriggled herself against him, wanting them to be as close to each other as they possibly could be. The barber had different ideas however, the right corner of his lip turning upwards in a way she found deliciously seductive.

"I don't think so, my dear," he said, his voice not as stable as the words suggested.

The baker wasn't aware of this however, only the two words he had said echoing in her mind. She didn't know whether she should be glad or disappointed that he referred to her like that, but even if she would've wanted to, the barber made it impossible for her to think about it in that very moment.

As if wanting to make sure that she wouldn't go on tormenting him, making clear to her that he would be the one doing so now and that the tables were going to be turned around, he captured her arms in his hands and pushed them gently but firmly against the mattress, right next to her own body. She was completely trapped by him now, but she couldn't be any happier about it.

Even as he was holding her like that, he moved back a little, creating some space between them again. Now it was the baker's turn to voice her disappointment because of this, but when she saw the look of admiration and lust in his eyes, she knew better than to say anything.

Seemingly satisfied by the way she was lying beneath him now, unable to go anywhere or even move more than a few inches unless he let her, he lowered himself again. He pushed her hands upwards until they were at the same height as her head, so he could keep her hands captured even while using the same arms simultaneously to rest the majority of his own weight on.

Her legs however weren't captured by him yet and, wanting to know whether he really was as much in control of both of them as he liked her to believe in that moment, she wrapped them around his waist. Before he could do anything about it, she used them to pull him closer to her, until the lower half of his body was rubbing against hers.

Both of them cried out at the intimate contact. They were just as alone as they had been when they were in the bathtub together; there was no one to catch them this time. But even if there would've been, they wouldn't have been able to care.

"Two can play this game, my love."

She was rather sure that she really heard him say this, even as his voice was shaking with effort to talk intelligibly in the first place. But when he was the one who drove his hips against her spread thighs and their bodies connected again in the way that made both of them scream out loud, she couldn't be certain of anything any longer, except for the plain realization that he was the only one who could make her feel like this, and that there was only one who could make an end to the exquisite torment.

He was trembling above her, his effort not to lose control over himself again like he had done before obvious to her. Just like she felt that she couldn't truthfully determine whether he had just really addressed her in the way that she had dreamed of for so long, she didn't know whether she wanted him to let go completely or not. She wanted to be touched by his fingers like he had done before, but at the same time there had been nothing more glorious than the feeling of his body and the look on his face when she had found his own release just before that.

But at that moment there was nothing for her to decide, the barber determined now to take the lead himself. Seeing the determined gaze in his eyes and feeling his hard body against her own, she was perfectly happy with that.

She could tell that it took him a huge effort not to give in to the promises of her body like he had done the previous time just yet, but he managed to hold still, the lower half of his body simply resting between her thighs.

The baker knew by now that she had the power to make him lose all control, but she was curious to see what he wanted to do now instead and decided to remain lying still herself, not making an end to his attempt before it had even begun.

He closed the distance between their faces and, much to her surprise, he kissed her again. His mouth was hungry and demanding and she responded in kind. But between the lustful growls and probing tongues there was once again the strange tenderness she had been aware of before, suggesting that this wasn't about lust only.

As their mouths mingled, the rest of their bodies followed to some extent. Mrs. Lovett was completely lost once more, not sure any more where her own body ended and the barber's began, and whether she wouldn't be actually explode with the pleasure that was coursing through her once more already.

At one point he had let go off her hands, wanting to use his own to caress her face and trace the curve from her waist to her thigh time after time. Able to use her own again as well because of this, she wrapped one arm around his neck, the other one continuing to touch his back like she had done before, although the movements were much were much more eager now than they had been earlier.

The kiss alone left her wondering whether she was still actually alive, if she hadn't ended up in an alternate reality or even some sort of afterlife as soon as she had returned to London the day before. But Mr. Todd wasn't done yet – the mischievous look in his eyes suggesting that he was only just beginning.

He broke the kiss, causing her to groan with disappointment – until she realized what he was going to do next. She gasped when he began to kiss her breasts, the sound turning into another scream when he sucked and bit gently, making sure not to hurt her in any way even when his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh in such a fashion that made her squirm against him, only adding to the fire that fueled his kisses.

One of his hands cupped the breast that he wasn't tormenting yet, kneading and stroking just like he had done earlier in the bathtub. It felt even better now than it had done then, especially the things he did with his tongue driving her wilder than before, even though she had thought that this was absolutely not possible.

She was trashing against him, trying to find some of the friction that she needed to make an end to the overpowering need that was taking hold of her once more. The now somewhat familiar waves of complete desire washed over her again, but this time she wasn't afraid of them any longer, even though she felt that she was drowning again, finding it almost impossible to breathe as he touched her so intimately.

Nellie could feel that he was losing his hold over himself, that he too wanted to be inside of her even though he clearly wasn't done tormenting her like this. But with a growl that sent another rush of liquid fire through her, he kissed his way down her body, covering her stomach with open-mouthed kisses.

He had moved down her body to such an extent that she couldn't see the back of his head any longer. And even though she _knew _that Sweeney was the one who was doing this – if only because he was the only one who could make her feel like this – she wanted to _see _him, to know that this really was him even when her mind wasn't capable of thought any longer.

Vaguely remembering the pillows that they had rested their heads on during the night, she reached with one weak arm above her. After a few seconds her hand came in contact with one of them. She dragged it towards her, something that was quite difficult, verging on the edge of impossible, now that the barber was paying the same attention to her navel as she had just done to his. But she managed to pull the pillow beneath her head anyway, desperate to see with her own eyes what he was doing.

She was right in time. He looked up at her only a few seconds after she had ensured this proper look at him. Chin resting on the lower half of her torso, his eyes – impossibly dark, shining with something that surprised her even now – widened when he found her looking at him like that.

The baker was absolutely sure that he now was finally going to give in to both of their desires. Mr. Todd however completely surprised her once again. Looking straight at her, not blinking once, he moved backwards a little, until he moved his head between her already widely spread legs.

She missed the moment that he looked away from her, because she had shut her eyes in anticipation before he had done so. A jolt of both confused surprise and delighted shock went through her when she realized that he was going to do add even more to the huge turmoil of sensations inside of her.

She screamed when his tongue touched her in the impossibly intimate way for the first time, but even this loud declaration of passion wasn't enough to deal with the pleasure that spread through her when he began to worship her like that. She had been absolutely sure that she couldn't feel more powerless and consumed by fire than when she had when he had been pleasuring her in the bathroom, that he couldn't possibly arouse her more than when he had done then, but she was proven wrong now.

Her hands were groping for the blankets that she was lying on, more than ever needing something to hold on to now that the consuming fire that he was making her feel overtook everything else, until it seemed as if those sensations were the only things that were left of her.

She thought for a moment that she felt his nose brushing against her, just when she realized that the result of his intimate assault was actually dripping down her thighs. The knowledge that he was doing this, that he was lapping up her arousal, caused her to be even more affected by the touches. She couldn't be sure however what he was doing exactly, all her senses completely overloaded now.

Her eyes were shut more tightly than they had ever been; just looking at him would be too much. But she felt that she _had _to look, that she had to savor as much of this moment as she possibly could, even though this was basically impossible now that he had seemed to have robbed her of her most basic functions.

For a moment however she managed to open her eyes, hands clawing at the now rumbled sheets beneath her. The image that greeted her was almost enough to make her come undone. The barber was settled beneath her spread thighs, head buried between her legs as his arms were wrapped around them, keeping her heavily bucking body in place.

His tongue sent another wave of pleasure crashing over her, causing her to shut her eyes as another cry of delight was elicited from her. She sensed that she couldn't take much more of this, that his tongue was going to send her over the edge at last. But just when her back arched off the bed, when she was so close to shattering that she was truly lost in the moment, he withdrew.

A sob escaped her when the release that she craved more than anything she had ever wanted in her life didn't come. The barber was gone and for a horrible moment, she feared that this was another dream – or nightmare, depending on one's point of view – in which she had been tortured by the barber like this, only to have him disappear at the moment that she needed him the most. She had been so sure that this wasn't another dream, experienced in her small bed with her thankfully sleeping nephew next to her, but at that moment she felt that nothing was certain any longer.

She thought that she heard Sweeney's voice. It sounded frustrated, but she couldn't be sure of that – didn't even know whether the words weren't part of her imagination as well. But then he settled himself against her and she moaned with relief when his very real and solid body covered her once more.

It was nothing compared however to the feeling that followed a second later. He guided himself between her widely spread legs and filled her with one powerful stroke as soon as he could. The baker cried out when he made his way inside of her once more, her voice mixing with Sweeney's almost desperate growl.

Her body felt torn – not because of pain, but because it was truly lost now because of all the sensations that he caused. She wanted this to go on forever, but at the same time she needed release because she was rather sure that she couldn't take any more of this.

Mr. Todd was facing the same dilemma. But from the way he was trying to control himself in the moment of complete abandon, even she knew in her more than heated state what he was trying to do.

He held himself perfectly still, the arms that he was resting his weight on shaking with the effort, his tightly shut eyes too betraying the difficulty he had with this. She already knew what he was wanting to do before he had even started.

_Don't you dare – don't you dare hold back._

She didn't know whether she had only thought this or actually said the words out loud; the difference between those two things was fading now that he once again overwhelmed her in a way that no one else had ever done – that no one else could.

Mrs. Lovett clenched her inner muscles, wanting him to _move_, needing him to make an end to this before the flames that were burning inside of her completely consumed her and the intense throbbing at the spot where their bodies were joined actually destroyed her mind. And no matter how tempting it seemed at the moment, she still sensed that living for the rest of her life with nothing but the primal instincts that she was reduced to now wasn't such a good idea.

Whether she had actually spoken the encouraging words aloud or not, the not so subtle movement of her body had broken the barber's resolve. Groaning, he slid back a little, only to push himself back into her. Persuaded by the cry of delight that he elicited from her by doing so, he did this again, and again, until he gave up all pretense of restraint and pounded into her.

The ache inside of her was becoming unbearable, the barber's hard thrusts fueling the flames inside of her. The blankets weren't enough to hold on to any longer and she wrapped her arms around his torso, nails digging into the already scarred skin of his back.

Sweeney obviously was too far gone to feel it, let alone care about it. If she hadn't been just as lost in the still growing pleasure as he was, she would've marveled at the way his body was moving above her, how it felt to have him inside of her.

The speed of the pounding increased, just like his grunts became louder with every time that he slammed into her. The baker was only partially aware of it however, her body too overtaken to really notice the man who was causing it all, no matter how much she wanted to.

Her body couldn't endure the heavenly assault any longer. She was almost dragged over the edge once more, but this time she welcomed the feelings that were almost terrifying in their intensity, knowing that Sweeney was right with her and was experiencing the same.

In fact, even as her entire being shook and trembled, she was aware that his body jerked uncontrollably against her own. The realization that he had found release was enough to make her finally come apart as well.

All-consuming pleasure spread like a fire through her as he roared her name. She may have responded to him in kind, but there was no certainty of the things she did and didn't do when she came undone in the barber's arms.

He collapsed on top of her a moment later, hot breath raging against her still sensitive chest. Even though he was spent and didn't seem to be able to move at all at that moment, he tried to roll off her, as if to prevent himself from crushing her beneath his weight. In the past she had been sure that he would wanted to get as far away from her as he possibly could if something like this would ever occur, doubtlessly overwhelmed with shame and disgust for having allowed himself suck weaknesses.

She was rather sure that this wasn't the case now and that certainty was a blissful one. The baker however didn't want him to move away – not now, not ever. Whether she could breathe or not, she needed him now just as much as she just had done.

Rather sure that she couldn't make it clear to him like this with words, she simply refused to remove her arms and legs that were still wrapped around him, tightening her grasp on him even as he tried to move away from her.

He muttered something unintelligible and he ceased his attempts to break away from her, his entire body relaxing almost immediately, as if he was only glad that she wanted him to stay so close to her.

Only now that she was sure that he wasn't going anywhere for the time being, she could fully enjoy the heavenly aftermath of their lovemaking. Hands soothing the imprints that her nails had left on his back, she savored the feeling of his body against her own, the fit perfect even now.

Catching her breath was difficult indeed, but she didn't care at all. Having air in her lungs simply seemed so trivial now that the barber was lying in her arms like this, completely immobile after having used all of his strength and endurance to satisfy both of them so completely.

Just like her, he was trembling, aftershocks running through his body every once in a while. His head resting in the crook of her shoulder, body covered by a thin layer of perspiration just like her own, he was clinging to her even now, arms wrapped tightly around her since she had made as clear to him as she could that she didn't want him to move away. The realization that this wasn't only her own dream that was coming true, but that also his fantasies had become reality, made the quiet moment of connection even more precious to her.

"Now _I _can't breathe," he said after a while, his voice muffled by her hair even as he tried to turn his face away from it for a second.

Realizing that the way they were clinging to each other even now wasn't a very convenient one in the long run, she reluctantly let go off him. He rolled off her as soon as she did so, but the sigh that accompanied the movement betrayed that he too wasn't eager to do this.

Mrs. Lovett felt cold and alone as soon as he wasn't so close to her any longer, missing the feeling of his body against her own even though she knew that he was right next to her and that it was only practical reasons that made him move away from her.

Breathing was actually becoming difficult now that his weight wasn't resting on her petite frame any longer. It almost seemed as if her very being had trouble to begin functioning normally again now that they were separated, no matter how small the distance between them was.

A hand was reaching for her own, needy fingers entwining with hers. She didn't know whether the barber experienced the same strange moment of loneliness as she just had, but she felt at ease again as soon as their hands touched.

Her hand now firmly held by his, the baker could easily breath in, deeply taking in the air now that she could. As she was doing so, the world around her that had ceased to exist as soon as he had began to kiss her was reappearing. The barber's room was just like it had been before, the sun was still shining. But at the same time it had changed so drastically, the messy sheets on the large bed betraying their passion and the sunlight brighter than it had ever been before.

And as Sweeney squeezed her hand even as he was trying to catch his breath and was probably just as exhausted as she was, she had the growing feeling that those changes were permanent ones.


End file.
